Streetlight

Kirchner_-_Straßenszene_bei_Nacht

We stand on the corner
Between noisy bars
That strew their rubbish
Beneath the stars.
From your stinging words,
Ill-concealed disdain,
I turn and run
Through tears of rain.
And the rain shafts cold
Through the orange light
Of the streetlamps’ glare
That obscures the night.
And your words, how they hurt
You will never know,
Are synthetic and cold
As the neon glow.

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