The rain hits the window with a peculiar pattern
which reminds me of the way your fingertips
would tap
tap
tap
against the firm structure of my ribcage,
that one night in August.

There     are     faults     in     our    stars



                                                ­                 Ink marred by burning scars

                                                          ­         Holes in velvet seams

                                                      ­                  We cling to foolish dreams

                                                         ­       Seal the blinding **pe within

                                                         ­                              The light will always dim
                                                             ­                 
We burn so bright

                     Can we ignite without the light?
                                                          ­                                                    
I have never felt the same
                      
                                   Since you extinguished my flame
                                                           ­                                                         
I am a match without a spark
                                                        
  ­                                     Now you are a stranger in the *dark

Whoever said kisses
taste like sugar

has
either
no experience

or no imagination.

streetlights ignite
the darkness after nightfall
setting the shadows ablaze
and, all the while,
remain endlessly
unprecedented unattractive unappreciated and unnoticed
despite their best intentions
and unaltered loyalty to illuminate our nights

without them, nighttime wanderers
would be absorbed by the night
and not be seen til morning
they are the only guides left
when twilight swallows the adventurous whole

so this is a thank you
to the undervalued streetlights