The specifics in your voice
point me to a particular day
The words flee your mouth;
nervously they run away
You speak in exacts,
In meters, not blocks or minutes.
I find my way with signs
You wonder if its just this?
I'm alone in the breeze
with a muted red light
illuminating my paces
and I must dance to stay lit.
A glimpse of a smile
A tirade of guilt
Hopes of a future
Turned now to a wilt.
