Foreshadowing

Boxes full of dust ridden gems Flipping through forgotten vinyl Humming along to the obscure song playing in the shop There's the smell of old books with yellow pages It's strange to think That we are finally here together Me aching for that black hearts album You aching for me Walking streets with strangers Dipping in and out of the galleries We've never really paid attention to before Snapping photos of street art Sneaking quick cigarettes in alleyways And quick glances from opposite ends of the sidewalk You can talk for hours Everything that enters your mind Escaping your lips I can have a mind full of the same things Locked inside my brain Never being able to find the right Combination of 26 letters The good nights always come to an end But so do the bad ones Echoes of jazz piano floats onto the street Arms wrapped right Meloncholly aching filling my body Never let go