No-one Lives Here Anymore

Infatuated by the illusion of happiness
in a ghost city, where the scent of fear is familiar

Swishing by like a shadow walking through
a cloudless night

Sought in unfamiliar beds
musty in the aftermath of erotica

Arms flung in short-lived passion,
closed lips hungry in a bittersweet embrace

Lost in the curling smoke of a joint,
the amnesia of a drinking stupor

Temporarily satiated
Until the shadow’s hand falls upon your shoulder

PoP © 24 Oct 07