In burnt out scenes I lingered like some old lab rat or some apocalyptic cockroach glowing in the dark and still existing in this modern wasteland.
Vegas is an illusion 1 billion bright lights shining out in the distance with no true soul or depth.

She was the past and I was too old to look  back.
Or maybe just too jaded my ego too big to fathom her ways.
You are a mystery a unwritten story best left untold no true emotion and an endless supply ******* to keep you warm.

There is solace in isolation a madman's prison the paradise to troubled thoughts I had everything my drugs my ***** my addictions serve me well.

And as for you my dear.
I will see you tonight rapped in lace and bound by secrets.
I will see you for only the way you choose me to see you.

There are no true answers  to questions only more stories.
And she was a chapter unto herself passion, hatred, love, all things she had learned served her as my addictions suited me.

We would meet again for fools in the storm often take shelter anywhere they can.

I never wrote a mystery until I met her.