I’m driving down the night
It’s shaping up to be quite a storm,
she said as she poured her voice
into another shot of tequila.
You always were the optimist;
staying awake, hoping the wind will pick you up
and drag you away.
The splintered shutters were banging;
I climbed the stairs alone.
Crawled along the floorboards, alone;
with each breath catching barbed-wires
she etched into my chest. I fell into bed.
You always wore that smile —
the one that lit half your face with fire
and the other half with pain.
I don’t think tomorrow will last long,
I tell myself as darkness comes.
I can hear her voice, laughing
as she flattens my home, again.
In clear September there is a shadow
dancing circles around the sun;
and the clouds are screaming freedom.
Oh summer days, your love is fading
with the morning mist. We are sinking
into the forests on horseback, calloused feet
and skin that will soon forget salty sweat
and fearsome storms of a chaotic sea.
In clear September we rise and wave farewell
to a sky we once walked below.
It is time to run; time to trip on roots and streams —
the cold has not yet gripped our hearts —
we must chase the footprints of a shadow
leading us toward another adventure.