Each time I revived us with recycled air,
you lay down another brick for our crypt.
You suffocated me with lofty dreams
and the thickest smokescreens
but ignored my lifelines
tied
to other men.

I feared the dormant metal
behind the door adorned with
a misplaced fist.
I know silent fury by its charged air
a loaded threat
dulled
with plants burned to wisps.

You might have loved me once
before getting lost in a labyrinthine haze.
You sealed your fate every night
but I will not confine my world to your grave.

Call me a coward,
proclaim me a whore,
fire shots in this mausoleum
with space for two.

I’ll crawl through your blaze
to escape any death by you.

Each of your sloppy insults,
is freedom with a different name.
I carried us to this bitter end,
it’s your turn to shoulder the blame.

While you choke on your fumes,
and make the best use of your premature tomb,
I’ll finally,
finally,
breathe in the freshest of air.