Pretty Boy, Poor Boy

He looks like death.
So quiet.
With ash tumbling from his eyelashes
And smoke curdling around his fingertips.
So quiet.
Yet when you are next to him
You can hear him screaming.
He will be the end of you,
Your undoing.
But
Everyone goes at some point,
You think,
As you fall into him.
You hope he catches you.
- (he won't)