The light catches his hair in the most perfect way and It’s a movie
The blond tips look like wings under streetlights
I flee from that perfection because I sense illusion
I sense danger I sense blood.
I flee with a gun in my right and scarf in my left
The AM is always so cold the breeze may **** me .
Town clock strikes 05 and it’s time for the night to disperse
I thought I was alone but I smell your footprints and I s was your shadow to my right
A black ink pen I grab from my pocket and scribe onto my hand what sight surrounds me, a commemoration or our last hours spent under streetlights I try to write yet the ink smudges simultaneously. A sign to warm me that I won’t want to remeber this night.
Alas i was correct, he was an illusion. My warning sought truth.
Blood dribbles out my head out my mouth
I drool needlessly hopelessly at his smug silhouette above me.