It's a cheat, O, yourn beat

When night comes bearing the darkness of another silent, empty street, thoughts careen about mountain roads, I can hear the engines, headlamps through a mist of winged wreckage, the yowling wind of parted memory, a dusty bottle of stale and shaken fizz.

So wounded when I caught that eye, one can see the reel so clear in backpedal!  It was like coming home, like a flavor in the pot I could never quite repeat.  A fawn in a meadow of doubt I daren't touch for fear an apparition.  Jointly but for a breath, a sip of air, and it'd gone.  Like a dream, I awoke there, mad with the fever of my nakedness, those lips a drunken smoke, something I craved between my brow, two eyes that glistened, unhindered, like water gulped from it's source.

My ears ring with a silence, too prideful to speak it.