AT NIGHT, THIS PLACE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
A STRANGE COMFORT FOR THE PENSIVE,
FOLLY FOR THE HAUNTED.
YOUR NAME
IS ETCHED AT THE BACK
OF MY HEAD,
HIDDEN, IN A GRID,
WHERE MIERZWIAK WOULDN’T
FIND YOU.
AT NIGHT, ATENEO AVENUE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
I REMEMBER:
"THIS IS WHERE I SAW YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME."
I FLICK MY CIGARETTE AND MAKE UP
A GOODBYE,
LIKE JOEL TO CLEMENTINE,
AND HEAD BACK
TO WHERE
THESE YELLOW LIGHTS
CAN’T FIND ME.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:15 AM UTC
AT NIGHT, THIS PLACE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
A STRANGE COMFORT FOR THE PENSIVE,
FOLLY FOR THE HAUNTED.
YOUR NAME
IS ETCHED AT THE BACK
OF MY HEAD,
HIDDEN, IN A GRID,
WHERE MIERZWIAK WOULDN’T
FIND YOU.
AT NIGHT, ATENEO AVENUE
IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,
I REMEMBER:
"THIS IS WHERE I SAW YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME."
I FLICK MY CIGARETTE AND MAKE UP
A GOODBYE,
LIKE JOEL TO CLEMENTINE,
AND HEAD BACK
TO WHERE
THESE YELLOW LIGHTS
CAN’T FIND ME.