Tonight, I drive.
I like rolling quietly, alone, through the darkened town. It is deserted and safe, so unlike my midnight city. A lone pack of roaming teenagers darts in front of the car before disappearing down the nearest alley.
Tonight, I listen.
Melancholy songs trickle from the radio and mince through my head. They speak of love and regret - always, love and regret - but it is not mine. Never mine.
Tonight, I sigh.
My life is unfinished, undone, unwritten, unsung. I am No One of No Legend, the familiar face without a place in the background of your world.
Tonight, I sleep.
My restlessness abates and the fog of dreams descends.
No comments:
Post a Comment