clandestine walkways

She was dangerous,
an accident waiting to happen.
And I was the one who took the fall.
To this very day
I still find shards of her
embedded in my skin.

i think the thing i miss the most
is taking walks in the dark
when colored leaves littered the streets
how september faded into october
leaving nothing behind
except the smell of thick burnt air
and saline stained sheets.

parted lips
spilling secret
dreams
of white walls
aching fingers
ticking clocks
tainted calendars
and bruised sheets.
the days wash over us
one step closer
one day further
apart.

she traces the
rounded edges of
a sore calendar
a frozen clock that
nibbles at the seconds
the minutes fall away
numb and senseless
she walks a
hundred miles
licks the rust
from an ancient
heart that whispers
blue songs
under a striated moon

it’s not thursday night,
but it feels like it.
you’re not here to talk to,
but you should be.
there are coiled cables,
spools of wire that kiss
the edges of moistened layers
cavernous passageways
that scream in silence.
i want to go back
to striped sheets
late nights
burnt bicycle tires
vacant lots
roaming fingers
rumbling beats
warm saline that fell
from whimpering eye lids
a rugged heart
two spent souls
twisting and twining
in the echoes of
desolate train tracks