Love Trip Poem by Chase Gagnon

Inhaling your breath
against my lips
gets me high.
Love this potent
should be illegal,
it feels so bad...
like someone sold me your heart
in a little plastic bag
from the pocket of their hoodie
in the cover of night.

I lit it on fire
and breathed in
every panted wisp
of smoke
pushed up from your burning core.
I bet distant cities can see
our flames on the horizon,
and the citizens are rushing to church
to kneel before God
and pray to be spared
from the glowing apocalypse
crawling towards them
on it’s knees
with dangling breasts.

What a beautiful way to die...
but the world has already ended to me
a thousand times
because nothing matters
in this moment but you.
However, I think I can hear their screams
beneath yours,
as the climax of Armageddon firestorms
falls from the angry heavens
that generously matched our souls
despite being so tainted
with sin.