Bleeding

She stood, arms bleeding in the middle of the road

Yet as we drew near, she ran

In the dark of 2 am, I chased her orange streetlight shadow

She was to remain an enigma, for I never saw her face

Merely followed her pain, into the night.

Oh we looked,

Searched,

Then, just as it all seemed to be over

A cry

Not her, she had vanished

Though still a cry,

Of despair, astonishment, surprise

"Get away, get away, it’s on fire".

I felt I should do something, as the windows turned black

I watched the green nylon curtains melt

Frozen in awe

It was an ordinary house,

Semi detached, suburbia

Unremarkable really

Yet now, it would always shine with infamy, in my mind,

And as the windows cracked,

Trumpton arrived,

I ventured closer, near enough to watch television

As it melted, over blackened carpets.

Later amongst the steaming smoke, I found her lighter in the gutter.

The one she had used, to burn out her lovers heart.

As the blue lights receded, I did not go with them

I stayed on lonely vigil, in case her shadow should return

And in the hours until dawn, I felt the coldness of her soul.

Six thirty, in the early morning light

Charlie November five two, learns there is no need to stay

There will be no shadows this morning, or tomorrow.