Sneakers thrown over telephone posts
Streetlights shine and dusk draws close
My shadow dances along the facades' bricks
To the beat of my shoes' cheery clicks

Walking down the middle of the street
Traffic dead, but the life is upbeat
Between worn building, covered in decay
Rusted cars, everything ash grey

But the wind whips through, playing with my hair
My body moves briskly, my form is a flare
Turning corners with intentions of nowhere
Down a flight of stairs and in the mist is the blair

He stands in the door of the subway
I reach for him, becoming disarray
We lock arms and lips collide
Opening our eyes, we coincide

The world around us is vivid and entire
Passion finially ignigted with the fire
I cease to play with my shadows
With my arms around my lover, the skies turn to rose

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