Et tu, da Vinci? ★★★

We were thick as thieves once
him and I.
The people we were then
could not exist
if not for the sake of the other.
We were interdependent
and lived life
with the passion and fire
that came from surviving
in our own world gone mad,
riding out the storm with arms held tight,
wrapped in each other.
The memories I have
of some nights spent with him
still reek of dreams,
and little lost whispers,
like ghost children.
Sure, we made each other better,
it was as inescapable as
our inevitable end
that we would touch and guide and rebuild,
breath life into ashen corpses of people
and remember together
the light of supernovas.
Just as it was impossible
to avoid destroying each other,
set each other aflame,
to be reborn in new lives,
different people
with new stories for clean pages.
Embodiments, devotionals
to the act of becoming.
Him and I,
we consumed each other
as we rose higher,
spiraling faster,
inflamed,
seeming then
so much like
phoenixes entwined.