Streetlamps

She is the only kind of night that I am not afraid to walk alone in. Her eyes are street lamps; Ones that draw out a lit path with a white charcoal pencil on a black piece of paper. Each one of her fingers are the streets, Spreading out like the webbing of a bats wing using the moon light as her nail polish. She is the only kind of night that is too bright and too warm for ancient vampires to roam in. No longer must I guard my heart with stakes and hammers. I shall let her take me. And say my goodbye to the sunrise. -Bryce Stoskopf