AmyLavernia

Together we stand looking down at the almost empty roads, it’s 4 am and we haven’t slept, strange really as some people have already slumbered and woke to a new day. Our minds have not yet rested and still daunt on the troubles of the night, the moons voice echoing our fears, still fresh upon our ears. The sky cries heavy tears plummeting on the cold Tarmac; water glossing the hard stone like thick oil. A soft pedal beat echoing along to the whispering voices of passing cars; a sombre yet comforting song. The sky is duller still, thick grey clouds choke the air like smoke from the last cigarette. A raindrop, or perhaps a tear, meanders down my pale cheek, my drenched clothes clinging to me like a lingering embrace. And though my chest suddenly burns with a heavy, aching sense of remorse a smile creeps into my iced, cracked lips; for there’s is a sudden sense of beauty in the empathetic loneliness; and so, when the lights of a passing car glisten in the rain, I wave and take your hand…