The end of the project
The sky is the color of a bruise
Deep purple and swelling
Across a darkening horizon
Where the lights are coming on
In a city full of my ghosts
Lena breathed in the chilly night air.
It was the hour of the morning when the previous night’s mistakes lingered but hadn’t taken root into full-blown regrets.
She looked up the street.
Then down the street
Then back to me sitting on the stoop, head in hands, fighting off the oncoming hangover.
“The fire escape is rusty,” Henry said.
“It always had been since we started sitting out here at age thirteen,” Jess responded.
“Five years on, other things have changed. The rising sun is threatening to take you. You’ll go, I’ll never see you again.”
“I won’t forget you.”
“Is what they always say.”
She sings when things are good
She cries when they are bad
Her mood reflects her world
That she wears upon her sleeve
To let the rest of the world know
How to revolve around her
I see the wild flowers
Showing that it’s spring
I see you with you arms stretched skyward
I know that you’ll be leaving soon
We had some good times
While you were here with me
Being a good lover
I know it’s time for you to be free