Dark murky air hangs low
over grimy, slick asphalt.
The stale air thick with heady perfume,
every corner dripping with ****** frustration.
Down, through dismal, dark alleyways,
each click of her heels holds a feeling of self importance.
Like a Broadway star’s bold steps –
But life is not a cabaret.

A mysterious energy dances
on the biting edge of the wind,
smelling of car exhaust and
carrying with it a feeling –
the sweet feeling of glamour.
Thrill of broken bottles,
beer soaked clothes,
lonely desperation.

Tousled dark hair,
filled with glitter from the night before,
a cloud of intoxicating whisky scent
heavily laden over her shoulders.
Through her jaded, glassy eyes
She sees only darkened shades of gray.
The neon signs flicker –
like a beacon of faltering hope.

As she pulls the last cigarette from her pack
The ruin floods into her veins.
Stumbling through the streets,
Fuming colors flash by,
Their images leaving imprints
in her tender, bruised, mind.

Surrounded by a dark shroud –
Silhouettes of black, grey, brown;
a dreary collage,
Accented only by the bright lights,
flashing signs,
and endless advertisements.

She notices the familiar,
The grounding,
The taste of the nicotine on her tongue,
Another poison laced drag,
Warming her from her numb complacency.

She tried to escape her lonely heart and empty bed –
Looking for love in the abandoned, crumbling buildings
plastered with
lights, success and fame.
Yet there they are,
Haunting every step,
Delicately tapping out her tale of heartbreak.
This was her new life in the spectacular New York City –
The beautiful land of decay.