I turned and left, rose pedals falling, charging the ground
like rain water being pricked by each falling drop; now puddled
and pregnant, the moment collapsed and I was gone.
If it was Tuesday, the skyline ignored it, as wind sheeted by
like worn linen over a freshly made bed. I thought it might
be her bed, clouded and wet, electricity scuttling, lights
flickering in a mimic of bright eyed filament mistaking
Morse code; that I could watch the bulb fire on and slowly
fade back to black. I remember now, how much darker
it seemed, after starring intently into the dying glow,
my eyes blinded for moments.
In a later moment, I saw the clouds tear apart, light
shone, but still grayed, and lit to a blueish hue. I felt my lips,
chapped, and heard under the rolling tires, the crumble
of some loose gravel. I parted my thoughts like the sky,
let the road veer the car, and loosened to the night. Somewhere
detached, between nervous and cold, my toes met wet sock
and I knew you knew I should have brought a change,
a fresh set! That's all I could see, the window fogging, those
fresh steps of damp traipsing across the windshield for me!