a single pane of glass between us and the cold.
thin shadows spill across empty sidewalks.
the clock tower frozen at one minute to midnight.
she stands at the far side of the gate.
the night drags its wounded heart,
a quiet aching bleeding shadows into doorways.
the night my lonely lover,
she has this tiny upturn
in the corners of her mouth when she smiles.
it is one minute to midnight.
trash dances across a deserted street.
a fragile choreography of things once held, once wanted.
the cold air, her unreturned embrace.
the midnight silence, her final answer.
nothing as heavy as my broken-hearted sigh
moaning for some distant shoreline.
I'm a match struck in a dark room
consumed by its own hunger.
a dying star in a silent void.