To electric moonlit message
Scalding my eyes
Paris is burning.
A broken heart
And with it, the smoldering
Of our early 20s
Spindling up like spires of smoke
A gothic cathedral made of black ash
to replace Notre Dame
Flecks of dust floating down the Seine
Can you talk tonight?
I really need someone to hold me now
But I think your voice whispering through the telephone wires will do
This must be love in the apocalypse.