As the night tickles the last breath of day,
I walk alone, almost for the last time,
in streets I’ve called home,
entwined by dreams and memories.
Cast, as spell, away will be the fragrance of the city
and his vibrant mood.
His black eyes looking upon me
as though disaster was a priority,
but his veil transforms the image
into a disorderly harmony,
that lingers on my lips,
even as the sun has long struggled to dip into the horizon.
These are the nights where I coexist, consciously,
again with the stars,
mesmerized by their spinning and their light.
Their spinning and their light.