Cold wind conditionary.

First-person is such tranquil reciprocity.
They never mentioned themselves
as though they were just in line.
She validates the cold accord by changing
what she felt when the storm was a fresh scent
in the air, unmarred by the pollution
of the factories she built to change the organic
nature of everything they had seen.
They embarked without her heart, pacing like the rest
but realizing she had left it, refusing to let it go,
she collapsed and bled from a hole in her chest.
He desperately tried to seal it but the pollution leaked
in and changed her and she began to cough,
a circle forming around them disappearing for days.
The scent of the air became toxic and the geometry of the landscape
cut them both in myriad ways.
"This is the ends for such a human existence?"
was the cry from the young lover's mouth.
The people around heard nothing and continued to romance
the violence and drink in the poison of the air.