Gunpowder Dreams

She is an empty city road after midnight.

A teasing breeze on a summer evening.

The tune that runs under his freezing skin.

A blurry reflection of lost stars in his eyes.

The worn book that he wants to read twice.

But then again, you might want to lower your stand,

look up, even the clouds might just kiss the lands.

She carries another hell within her

convince me, does she not?

and yet she brushes a smile on her face.  

(No threat, don't unmask, not yet)

Look closer. Once again. This time, align her with grace. 

Her eyes carry a vocabulary she just needs you to understand, 

to paint colored emotions trapped inside her own space.

And like a thought drawn from gunpowder,

she's a monochrome dream, darling,

a dream that is running her own race.