Evening Wounds

A dense dusk slots in-between two tall buildings. Just moments ago the busy road was in full flight now it growls low like a wounded beast we hardly can hear it. When dark descends like this dragging an intangible gravity of loss down upon us we all get folded inwards. Just moments ago the city bustled along blinking like a pinball machine now only an electric fizz offer us its neon-lit sight. This eventide was crushing it rolled up the dying day before it. I take your hand in mine lead you to a room behind a room where people drink red wine and recite poetry about the light and the dark. Your lips look bruised as if the crumpling daylight had painted them this muted shade of sorrow.