A cold night
a busride home.
Strangers I shall never see again.
Abandoned trash on the floor
crumbled and brown from being trudged on.
The musty air
of cheap perfume.
A subtle hint of hostility
is suspended in the air.
It is as cold and bitter as the winter air outside,
ready to rip through clothing
and tear apart flesh.
A gaze.
Empty with lingering thoughts elsewhere.
A couple, smiling and holding each other.
They laugh,
happy for their found treasure.
Two drunk men,
loud and rowdy.
Miserable wretches
wallowing in their losses.
Drenched with pain.
A smile with pain to strangers.
A mask.
The woman with nothing to lose.
No fear, no regret.
You envy her, but wonder where her life is.
You think some tragedy has grappled onto her
so she may lose faith
and acquiesce to fate's dreadful beckoning
Why is it we assume the worst?
To cure disappointment?
To quench desire?
Ahhhh, desire, love's agony.
To feel the pain of love
is a great and unforgetful experience.
It reminds you that you are alive.
Live
and love
and lose.