The Night Speaks

The smooth streets
The buildings holding some secrets
the white strips glowing in the streetlights.
The closed shops,
the frequent zooming motorbikes,
the hushed voices,
the sheets, tears, hopes
buried in the day
slowly awakening
as the night speaks.

The night speaks.

In the nights
I remember you
when they go to sleep
their breathing silent
the duvets rising
falling, the rhythm of life
the carpets swooshing under my feet.
Your smell enveloping me
From that socks there
From that shirt on the hook
Unnoticed
Unheard.

I thought I left you behind
On that turning over there
On that second step of your room
On that half-empty coffee mug
On that bill of an Italian restaurant
I thought I had walked further
Gone further.
But
you still speak
A whisper in my hair
Near my ear
Running down my neck

sitting at the end of my spine

the smell of burnt bones
The scream of a crash
Oil and rubble and your wallet
Burnt.
The ashes speak.