Pluto

Pluto
Rebirth

My love for her is that of spray paint

on abandoned factories

with cold lips

pressed to a bottle for warmth.

It stays forever,

a statement of what it is to be

an artist.

The tag,

In blocky text,

reads:

"Winter: things end,
thing are born”
Like something you say
as you flick a cigarette butt.

From here the sun has no light,

So we look slowly toward another source.

And the end

comes like winter,

wrapped in a lifetime of love.

But the perfect white snow,

hints at sunrises long gone,

and those yet to come.