We danced in your room on a weekday evening
To that song by that band that we liked
Graceless and inelegant on my part
Stepped-on toes and laughter in unity
You held my waist and I hid the tears that beaded in the corners of my eyes
In your shoulder so you wouldn't ask what was wrong
Because I was so happy
Not like the clichés you might see in a film
There was no orchestral soundtrack, no montage of our time together
Angel choirs didn't sing of the best coupling in history
Nor did they lament our separation
The world went on
And I got used to it
But to this day
I can't listen to that song without crying

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

this love that we share
transcends
any stuttering ****** *****

Sometimes I wonder if I like being tragic
And utterly and mysteriously broken.
I can't decide if I'm beautifully tragic,
Or tragically beautiful,
Or just a ******* selfish wreck.