a ng e l ey e s

There were glimmers of light our cigarettes gave off as we strived to keep ourselves silent and unnoticed. It was another mission to the stars or did the stars lower themselves for just one more hour; a few grains of sand longer?
Where the cement curbed, we do not trust pass so we settle for beached shadow replicas of you and me, longing for silence as we fell short of breath.
But there was only a you and a me…
A you in your car and a me with my feet on the dashboard and my palms on your knees.
When all the stories of the night were stole and I gave up producing anymore realities and the needles were used up and the weekends were suspended, the sidewalks appealed to your feet as I begged you to abandon loneliness. The rooftops were solemnly dark and they watch over the streets where one day we would look up to see ourselves.
Our dreams were held out by barbed wire fences and our finger prints held to us by innovative flash cards allowing them all to view these residues of humanity buried by charity under some unmarked tomb stone.
It didn’t surprise our morning cup of coffee that the china was coated with cyanide and it didn’t surprise your alcohol habit that it was traded up for some alternative which once again permuted you to smile.
- “won’t you share some of your happiness?”
- “I keep my happiness in a small box until I’m feeling down an d then I spread it out on the coffee table, for a few lasting hours”

The white powder had flowed in and out and back into our veins several times sewing us together so that the thread was no longer useful, so we saved up tidbits of colored yarn in order to someday fasten a noose around these habits , around our necks, so as not to waste the pretty pills we’d been saving up and labeling.
When you finally took your bike there was nothing to trace you back to me, no clause in this contract that could restrain your leaving, juts open air, yet for some reason there you were inhabiting that same place in my bed once a week, the place I’d keep warm for you in your absence.
The best hours were those untouched, those silenced, those that dragged with them, a sense of “always had been” that moved me to lock down my wrists and never want to leave.