Maybe it was the lighting,
But as you looked towards the rooms sky
I swore to you that the glistened dew stained
Your cheekbones, auburn.

It was the dimming glow that bothered mine.
I don’t know if was the environment,
Or the moon of currant, bleeding a signal that made
The mutts howl alongside you.

Your eyes, now faced with fears that knows
It can take over and plaster this town.
Fear subsiding into your crescent gaze
As you avoid looking at anyone.

I know you won’t hear me.
But I want to help you.