There she was, unrelenting eyes bold like midnight bonfires. There I was, small, insecure, rotting wood on a beach side. She asked me to dance, and I hesitated bound between desire and humility. Her mouth contorted into a smile, and my heartbeat ran as wild stallions toward the cliff. One last good fight, one last dream to keep me alive.

There she stood, porcelain hands glowing by the porch lights. There I stood, brooding along with the shadows of my past lives. She asked if love was all we should live for. I laughed, of course not my dear. But her love was the fire in my sorrowful heart. Dandelions danced in moon light when our lips met for a single time.

Lightning cracked like a whip and rain fell to break us apart, indoors the incessant babble drove me back into the dark, my moon was gone. Now I wander these empty streets, with warm whiskey and derelict cigarettes, remembering the warmth by the porch lights; the touch that never had a name. I lost her and myself all the same.

And then the headlights came.