The stairwell hums, and I'm listening to the last faulty flicker of a feeble lamp. Across from the banister, the street drums, and I'm sitting in silence with my vice in my left hand. It's easy to explain, hard to understand the way this panned out: a sight to see. But, don't you dare think I'm writing off any of the lessons that you taught me.
"Is it my hair?" I say, jokingly, a half-hearted conviction, shoulda been left unsaid. I wouldn't care so much if I don't have yer scent engrained in my head. I maintain the composure to hold you in high regard, figuratively now, I guess. You know I see the world in symbols, so it's not overstating how I felt when I say, "I spent a few good nights with a goddess."
Cross-tie connections and the hard work of steel driving men. We just met up, but I'm only thinking about when one of us will be leaving again. The city lights have seen the moments pass before eyes, brown and blue. Though I may be blinded by the truth, I know the stars shine brightly upon you.
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