maybe I like the quiet of my footsteps when I walk down the hallway alone
maybe I like the caress of the cold wind on my cheek
and maybe I like the electric feel
of things that are yet to be
short
Midnight Passageway
reaching for the streetlights, grasping
the blur-bright of sparks on lamp posts the quiet lights.
inside something was expanding and floating away ever further
we didn’t see it go
traipsing down the alleyways we walked
under the bridge and it was gone forever.
