Suburban Decay

How much more must we drink,

so that we may bare our hearts?

Only youth could be so foolish, 

to think Aphrodite could be deceived.

But tonight I will surface,

so you may see.

Tomorrow will call and we will not answer,

beckoned back to reality,

stowaways in the night,

caught by Dawn’s breeze.

So we evaporate,

reduced to smokey skin and ashened lips, 

heavenly hued,

gently kissed.

-Rob Padfield