A Strange Sunday

Small hands fighting thick wrists
A closed mouth against a forced kiss
Beating hearts and slamming doors
Crimson stains on paneled floors

Cataclysmic photosynthesis
The green of the trees matched eyes I'm not sure were mine
but I never thought it would come to this

An image in a mirror, left undefined

Salt water shaded cheekbones
I wondered if I was created to know
the absolution of being alone

Singing my scattered symphony
The night was the only one listening

This brings me to fear, and fascination with death and what brings us there, but that night I slept unafraid in a city of angels still needing to be saved...

And I remain.