A snifle at midnight
An unheard cry
My thoughts wander to that place I left
That wonderful place
The place I call my home

My heart aches
My mind cries
But I shove it all away
So no one will know my misery
So no one will know my pain

the window of your house
is like a television screen
for those nighttime walkers
they gather around
faces pressed against the glass
trying to catch the scent
of us
when our show ends
i will be like them
so hungry for you

As you twirl me around
I lose all direction
Abandoned drinks melt
Into lights, into faces
All there is—sound
And a guiding hand
Wrapped around my waist
No measurable space
Between us
Of nights like these I know little
And dancing, even less
Yet the divine song of doing wrong
Is one I never grow tired of

she despises december through march
the arch of endless grey
when her body fades to snow, and
the dreaded holidays
come in perpetual flow
unshed rivers, ****** behind
those tired eyes
her velvet voice is rarely heard
truly,
weeks go by without a word
all year she fears
that day of months
afraid this time
she
     will
            dis
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                       ppe

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