Fireworks

BOOM. a puff of purple powder stains the pewter sky. i sit, listening to the whirring and fizzling of the firey starlit, glistening when the midnight clock strikes nigh. a red light joins in the heavens high, shimmering and with a crisp, cool whistling a tune as musical, magical as fiddling that steals away breaths by and by. when all is said and done, and the burns in my retinas fade when these make-believe stars no longer masquerade little embers are here and there laid riddled around, each like a tiny, broken sun. when the conjunction has ceased to be fun and each person begins to wade through darkness thick and blood stained, the embers are left to rot in misery made, and the sky is left wondering in silence we spun.