Textures #05


The day the night the stars the city I walk along its empty streets while it sleeps and only the streetlamps seem to care about what happens in the dead hours as they hit the cool asphalt the sound of my shoes echoes through the buildings and only my shadow follows my path she dances around me as we stroll and I observe her movements they amuse me the first birds of spring are singing their song yet it is but breaking dawn so they must be confused but it is reconforting to have some company and I smile as I walk along I am wearing a cardigan and it is approaching the coolest hour of the day so I wrap it tight around my body and shrug my shoulders as that should warm me up but it is that kind of early morning coolness that seeps through your pores and settles in your bones the kind that you cannot shake off even if you get under the warmest blanket I used to share that moment with her after playing jazz into the early hours she would come to hear me play and drink old fashioned cocktails at the bar until we were done and everyone had gone home and the cleaners scraped off all the chewing gum from underneath the tables sometimes we would walk home and discuss things like the poetry of Lorca or criticise modern architecture I would hold her close to me when her body shook and her teeth chattered but in reality I just wanted an excuse to feel her scent around me and her naked body under all the layers of clothing she wore shiny sequinned dresses with red lipstick and her smile could make the bravest captain drive its ship to the rocks. 

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