these glittering lights.

from Peter Spencer;

Before our hands even touch to dance, I sense a false hope, but I try not to show my dismay. I move along with the rhythm of the music, the sadness of the two bodies in an empty room, and the thousand possibilities of how the night would end, or the dawn would begin. I lock my eyes to your worried ones, and they both close when I place a kiss on each. Then, I breathe you into my lungs and mark my bones with your memories.

The 12am time hits and we walk to this cheap bed and breakfast room without anything, but our infatuations. We spend the following minutes with kisses and wet bodies, but I know it has to end. The 2am time rings and I fake my sleep to match yours. I could have cried right there when, with grace, you swim away from my body and dress yourself. I can hear a pen scratching a piece of paper—perhaps the most formal goodbye I can get from you. Then, I hear a sob, and a tear slips from my eye.

Once the door closes, I read your thank-you note. I know you still have to go home to your drunk husband—I know this secret is through.

In the parking lot, I put the fireworks on the ground of the open field and light up the wick. The phoenix starts to fly to the dark skies, and it cries too. Since I cannot do it myself, I hope you will let these glittering lights guide you home.


Thank you for reading this story. If you want to talk about random things with me, do not hesitate to reach me through my “Contact” page. All the best love, my dear.


let me hold your words before you leave;

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