late nightime...tv on low...rhythmic street sounds
playful swishes of traffic
the sense of parties happening
i am swimming in fear.

so, you fled to your great escape
popcorn butter dripping down long fingers
trying to stetch long legs twisted
alone with the holograms of the screen.

frequent footsteps outside our apartments
they go to others heart breaks and pleasure
doors swing open and closed
a pendulum of hinges singing
i am sinking to the floor
scratched from the dances of time.

the tears swell...and remain suspended,
as does last nights memory
of your deep burgundy sanctuary
a silence of muted misty sounds
the fetal rhythms of your heartbeat
i wonder about regression.
keys turn in your doorway as our
loneliness sets in deeper than
this blue night
of yellow leaves.

~ by