One of those nights she'd have loved to usher a deliberate heartbreak; when he came in and said that he didn't want to go. One of those nights she was willing to give up the sick monotony of an old love pasted on her lips, so dry; when he came up with a love which didn't require one to stay.

~The red streaks and the absence of hues,
you wanted me to write for you.
Here I am with a piece so blue,
caught in an everlasting yonder;
with my words like blast-beruffled plume.
I was taught, in love,
both to win and to plunder.
The last night will remain like the memory
of a catastrophic thunder.

- _foxbixh