Lost Cause

Love is the lost cause bleeding in the dusty halflight of a suburban sad cafe. Remembrances of autumns past and kisses beneath Texaco neon, a wrong turn and a fleeting smile, a flash of light in the utter darkness of youth. A fragile spirit, bitter and broken, a glass heart placed precariously on the ledge, dangerous yet safe in the security of a fading memory. Alone 'neath starlit skies and snowy slumber, falling into the night, sullen vespers, the smell of your skin, aching for love somewhere in a motel in Massachusetts, your name a knife in these October wounds.