A little spritz of fragrance, subtle, appealing
Bergamot notes to lure them in.
Coquettish smiles, giggles galore
Dilly-dallying under the silver moonlight.
Ebbing and flowing, the crowd disperses
Fumbling and groping, in corners dark.
Groans of passion, feigned gasps,
Heated vows, promises brittle,
Iridescent sparks, behind closed eyes.
Jingling coins and rustling of notes,
Kindled fires tamped down for now.
Leaning against a grimy gray pillar,
My eyes follow the shuffling silhouettes.
Nocturne, clandestine, momentary, their love
Ostentatiously put on a display,
Pining for attention and validation.
Quaint night pockmarked, punctuated with
Ribaldry, revelry, and bawdy songs.
Silently I stand invisible to all.
They walk past me, an old, battered relic
Uglified, ravaged by time.
Vaingloriously trying to seek some comfort,
Wallowing the end of my shelf life.
Xyloid existence, gnarled soul, awaiting a flint,
Yearn to desquamate this mortal shell.
Zephyr beckons, and my soul meanders.
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One thought on “The Night Redundant”
Though the life she lived was based on fake love and fake promises,yet it gave her livelihood. Her old age is depriving her of this also.
A sad picture drawn.