The moon’s been following me all night
The little bastard just won’t give up
Tale-tell tears ‘neath Maybelline eyes
It was all my fault
Whether I want to admit it or not
The wind’s no longer whispering
(more) It’s screaming for a reprise
I disappear within your name
And the rain drops on my windshield
Like tears in her empty glass
Yesterday’s here, but tomorrow’s already gone
We spend our time like loose change
I’ve been promised forever so many times
At this point I should be immortal
A god of Third and Franklin
I watch a taxi cab slither its way up a rain soaked street
Like a blacktop anaconda
A concrete smile engulfs the night
It glistens with a shimmering metaphor
These winter skies are painted newsprint grey
A trail of petals leads to
Her trampled rose of a heart,
She loves me not,
She pulls a cigarette from her bag,
A lighter from her boot
And a thousand pigeons fall at her feet
Eden looked coolly at the single blossom Carver had presented to her with a kiss on her cheek. It was a rose of vibrant red, and perfectly in bloom. By anyone's judgment, a beautiful flower. Eden tried to imagine displaying it in a vase in her office,(more) and her mind balked. And to keep it in her home seemed even less fitting. She knew well enough how to perform romance-- she kept up with all the tedious magazines-- and had done so perfectly well in the past. Not thirty years ago, in fact. But for some reason, when it came to responding to these recent shows of genuine affection, she found herself at a loss.
"You look nice," Carver encouraged her, looping his arm around her waist and leading her to his car. Apparently she would be carrying his flower around for the duration of the evening.
In the car, Eden held the rose to her face and sniffed it politely, her gaze turned out the passenger-side window.
"Is something wrong?"
She turned back towards her date, a raised eyebrow prompting him to explain his question.
"You've been less talkative lately. You always had more to say at during our sessions."
Eden sniffed, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Most of which was mocking," she pointed out.
"So you're all out of things to mock, now?"
Eden pressed her lips together. To that, she had no ready answer. (less)