Until She Does

The night mocked me with its' shadows,

soul-less herds on parade

down the boulevard.

Keeping time with the doors that smile 

that crooked smile,

in the false luminescence

of a wayward street light,

sickly orange hued madness

that pierced my eyes,

and turns my guts into;

a sleepless madhouse.

It's easy to believe

we're all broken in the night

and to find yourself wandering,

amongst the miscreants.

I am haunted by,

what I cannot achieve

but more so tortured;

as those empty promises

ring the bells

of half past three

and go echoing down,

these empty concrete corridors.

Her eyes spoke to me the words,

which hid from her mouth,

as she cast about for meaning,

in the din and hollow,

staring into

one good eye,

begging to be seen.

Here's to an internal life,

straight from the heart,

of the universe's ocean,

Where nothing will rest,

until she does.