Night

We salute the night in it's overt passion to clothe      
the pleasure seekers.      
     
Laying guise to our weaknesses so we can run free!      
     
As the flowers sleep and hotels weep your freshly polished face    
is on the cusp of something beautiful that never comes to light.  
     
A cigarette butt laying in a pool of your tears reflect    
memories that burn like the stars you hold so dear.
 
Whiskey and wine scented breath baying at the moon,  
remembering the good times hand in hand with the scantily clad fads we preached as children.
   
Your divine priestly cloak comforts the pain  
as you set sail for the new dawn,
 
but as the heights dissolve behind the faded clouds    
I hold my heart, as I've come to realise  
that you've run away with the sun.