Aftermath

The night was young,
but for us it was almost over.
The point of being was never the highlight of our time spent;
it was always the aftermath.

Copious crowds of people never seemed so big,
until a familiar face could not be found and we began searching for an escape.

Our laughter was ear piercing.
It was a symphony of sound we created and an alluring melody we one day will forget,
but we didn't care;
we never did.

My missed conversations are something fate never intended upon;
their time was stolen by something believed I could never again live without.

As the rain tainted the windshield of the car,
the lights of a city illuminated the dark space radiating with promise and need.
The division of direction was a chain linked fence,
proving to me that mankind isn't all that beautiful.

We discovered the soundtrack belonging to the weeping widow;
watching the stars melt from her sky,
we would dream.

I dreamt of someone forgotten.
Goodbye was something I couldn't allow myself to accept when it came to him,
but our missed opportunities dress us up to be who we are now.
I've realized tonight it was never meant to be,
because I could never bring myself to give up what I now hold in my tiny fragile hands.

Where they were going was uncertain,
but where I was going I knew all too well.

Say hello to suburbia,
we're home.