She remembers the distorted designs
Formed by the shadows dancing on his face
And the street lamp that grew from the
Blood red bricks that rolled under unsteady feet
As hand in hand, they paraded home, proud victors.

She doesn’t remember the way he tasted
But she remembers the feral way
He looked at her with his yellow-green
Hooded eyes as if she could be devoured
While they timidly mused about impossible futures.

Lost promises cast shrouds over fond memories, and
She wonders if those should be locked up
Like the book he gave her inscribed with a sweet note
Hidden in the forgotten cabinet in a corner of the kitchen
But sturdy locks cannot protect the forsaken from the truth.  

At night the harmonica plays,
A whistler joins in respect
The mournful melody haunting empty streets.
She once heard someone say that
Lost lovers linger forever in the corners of the mind like
Predators skulking in the darkness
Waiting for an unsuspecting victim.