The night idles, skies tinseled with whispers of some lost storm as the dull stars almost try to shine, almost try to find the last wishes left alive on the night of some special day. Silence drags its brush through the blinking streets, lit windows and quiet curbs, steel fences and holiday lights. Every shadow holds a spark, every prayer a pyre to guide these greasy dreams towards heaven. The stars fall only to flicker, porches lit only to warn away the dark.
Walk off the last drink, trailing steam and off-hand malice. Walk until the stitches on your heels wear through, and the curbs cling to your wake. Another street, another streetlamp, another car trailing brake lights and pieces of the map you will never know. Your skin chills as the wind rises, howling down through the reach of sleeping trees, biting bones and streaming trash. Huddled in your last call shoes and the staggered step of someone with no where to be, you walk towards those dark cement stairs and the door that sounds like a sound effect. Hands crushed in your pockets, trailing blues and vapors, you wish almost everyone the best. You mumble "Merry Christmas," and this time you mean it.
Walk off the last drink, trailing steam and off-hand malice. Walk until the stitches on your heels wear through, and the curbs cling to your wake. Another street, another streetlamp, another car trailing brake lights and pieces of the map you will never know. Your skin chills as the wind rises, howling down through the reach of sleeping trees, biting bones and streaming trash. Huddled in your last call shoes and the staggered step of someone with no where to be, you walk towards those dark cement stairs and the door that sounds like a sound effect. Hands crushed in your pockets, trailing blues and vapors, you wish almost everyone the best. You mumble "Merry Christmas," and this time you mean it.
niobe:
Happy Holidays! 
niobe:
I understand.