Suburban Decay

It’s not a long walk home.

Yet,

In the navy haze of this Night’s death,

All is infinite.

Bricks upon bricks,

Form,

Homes upon homes,

All with blinds drawn closed,

Heavy eyelids sunken into slumber.

Lovers rest easy,

Entwined in one another,

And by this hour,

Even the heartbroken have cried their last tear,

Succumbing to sorrowful exhaustion.

Only the dead walk now,

Carrying the burden of their loss,

Neatly packed into a cigarette carton,

Manifesting memory,

Smokey shadows,

Cast by street lamps.

The air is soft on my skin,

Unknown comfort,

Never to belong.

Too dead for daylight,

Too young for tonight,

Somewhere in between,

Aside from life.

-Rob Padfield