She was beautiful
With her moon-tipped smile
The manic width
Of an effortless intrigue
He carried
Her slender hand
As they passed
Under the shadow
Of a garish marquee
*
Beneath the ruinous glow
Of street lights
No stars
In the heavens gleaned
No unprocessed spender
A breathing ossuary
This city
Black snow weeping
False doves uprooted
By hawkish winds
She the only angel
As of yet unfallen
He with so little
To recommend
=
Writing this was mysterious because it does not feel like my usual muse
mindlovemisery 