What's With The Shoes?

One step.

One moment.

One heartbeat at a time.

Red Rooftops

She had a voice that sounded how velvet dresses look on a ballroom floor. Perhaps by chance
Perhaps by infinite design
Hers was the face from the magazine you glanced through earlier in the week.
Perhaps this night wouldn't end up blurring into cubes of ice
This is nice
Perhaps this night would end up fine.
You ran into her earlier in the day when you walked out of the elevator before the crowds
before the thoughts got loud
You ran away in your mind when she first looked you in the eyes while she sang. And again. And again.
You know that look
You know that arch of the spine
The red lights wrapped around the rooftop railing on a hot summer birthday Savannah night. Each bulb a heartbeat that was transported out of an electric IV in your arm.
Why red lights?
Why wrap them around the small palm in the corner?
Why those eyes, that voice, that song, hauntingly penetrating deep tonight?
Why did the girl from the other town put a smile on your face first thing in the morning when you expected to not even see your own face let alone feel the muscles curve your lips with joy.
You walked around the dark alley before the night came to a close. Her voice would have to stay at a distance. You couldn't have it near you near you near you closer near you tonight with the balcony door open or in a pile of her clothes.
Candle blown out and another year alive and closer to the grace pulsating through your inmost being.
Southern roads. Southern rooftops.
Southern ghosts that you pray one day will be released from your memory. Praying one day will feel freeing.

Remember the morning. Remember why you are you. Remember those that still remember you. Remember the reason for every season.

Remember to close your eyes (thank You) before you get to closing your eyes tonight. Thank you too.

You're alive tonight.
You saw red lights tonight.
They were there for you.