The Night

The night I remember is

                        Elusive like what your eyes told me,

                        Long like the silence before we kissed;

                        Bitter in one fine line like a paper cut.

 

The night I live

                        Grows at the gate of your losses,

                        Yields at the city of your failure,

                        And surrenders at the bar through your own denial.

 

The night I love

                        Has a thousand corners,

                        Each with a woman asking me for a light,

                        Under aged, they undo trench coats.

 

The night I own

                        Is never overthrown by day,

                        Standing alone in a room full of people

                        Living its own sadistic reality.

 

The night I prowl

                        Contains a drunk who is found holding up a wall;

                        Wearing metal boots, covered in brick

                        Holding a clandestine letter.

 

The night I know

                        Has maniacs dancing happily with depression,

                        Dependant on each other;

The happiness and its maniac

Arrive at another level of night

 

The night is Black and full of empty promises of love.