3^rd Street

I hope I’ll die before tonight.
I hope I’ll lie my love, alright?

Stopping by the corner store, he had no concept of time, where his hands were three streets down and his mind a block away. Wide-eyed and heart-stopped, there were only pennies in his pocket. Long sleeves and ripped jeans, his shoes were still in front of the door. He said, “I can’t help watching you, while you talk with your eyes and lie with your smile. There. There, your hands on a bottle, it’s for you. For tomorrow.” Through the glass, another shot, another pill.

I hope I’ll sleep before tonight.
I hope I’ll keep my love, alright?

Her lips shook, as teeth rattled from some forgotten fever. Broken nails scraped on television promises, while clean palms rubbed at tired lids. The aisle seemed too small for two steps and a mouth-shaped heart. Today was just another day for her hand to hold onto the edge and look into that empty gaze. She said, “I know you’ve seen me before, with your hidden wrists and your limp hands. You smile at me, but you’re just as tired as I am.” Over the counter, another hit, another hill.

I hope I’ll leave before tonight.
I hope I’ll grieve my love, alright?

Day in, day out, for another penny, another grain to put on the table. From six with a sun, to eleven with the stars, he burnt out long ago. He wore the face of any other man, though his heart did not follow theirs, though his heart would forever be left inside his coat pocket. He said, “We live in a small town, with small talks. No one ever tries to fix what they would rather criticize. Look me in the eye and tell me we’re alive. We’re a lie.” Under the table, another tear, another chill.

~Noct…………………