staking out in the lilac bushes,
licking their lips from the cradles of oak branches.
You know that they're there, there's no doubt,
the night is never to be trusted,
not even for a minute, which reverses years,
if you allow it to, which you might tonight,
because who cares it's some sort of holiday,
at least isn't it always?
So maybe you leave it in the shadow
of your most trusted fortress, they can't see
it let alone take from you what's yours,
so put trust in the whispering street-signs
and kiss the diamonds in the road goodnight.
Yet once your predictable tire oozes in
like an injection to keep your smile warm,
everything disappears at once somewhere
and outside the shadows have gone ultraviolet,
leaving reddish stains from where love was before.
Hey, it was your fault, was it not,
can you stand the embarrassment, guilt, horrifying pain?
Yes,
at least until life creeps back into life,
because if only they had known
how warm your smile just is,
they would have been content with their flowers,
and nothing would ever go missing, at all.
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