Scene 1
With a gnawing uneasiness,
Our city’s frigid veins begin to crease.
Corridors filled
With prayers, whispers, unfulfilled dreams.
A spark erupts
At the top of the lonely loft.
An initial embrace
Igniting the final memories of Love lost.
The warmth is welcome.
Broken reservations dissipate.
A world at peace,
While smoke emerges from the fire escape.
Two Lovers sharing
A cigarette after moving out from hell?
Releasing shared pain?
Or should I stop forcing metaphors & call for help?
Scene 2
Our city provides —
Solace, heartache, opportunity.
And graceful romance,
With just enough lexical ambiguity.
But it falls short.
It can’t stop creeping cold or inclement weather.
We do that ourselves,
And sometimes, we do that together.
Respecting the flame,
My heart wants what the hearth has seized:
Potential for conflagration,
And your admiration — unashamed, unreleased.
Please. Burn with me.
Intentionally, without hesitation.
Spread my ashes.
Exhale your pain & let’s dance again.
