the streetlights flicker
and I ease
down
the
cool
cinder
block
wall.
"when did it all begin?" I ask,
rubbing my temples;
you run your fingers through your
thinning brown hair
and the ashes from your cigarette
dance like fireflies
in the dying midsummer sky.
you take a seat beside me
and when you
open your mouth
to tell a story,
a chain of words
fall from your mouth and hit he ground
with a thud.
you tell me of your hopes
and dreams and biggest fears.
and of drunken nights gone wrong.
and then you tell me the story of
how you wanted it all to end.
you bury your head into your chest.
"it doesn't have to be like this." I say,
as I help you to your feet,
"we can get through this."
you place your hand firmly
on my shoulder, "someday." you say
with a weak smile.
someday.