I Run, Sometimes, at Night

Scuffed shoes, light as smoke on life-bruised feet. Alone with my reflections And the moon And the thump, thwap, scrape Of soles on ground up asphalt. Nothing to see, here in drifting heat Just lips worn of expression, Chapped, gasping, striving for Silent as scuffed shoes Grind frantic breath to asphalt Nothing to hear, as stars sigh to their seats But cries of stopped confessions Of fear and faith and fire, of tears extinguished. Ashes layer, soft as breath, on ancient asphalt. Nothing can show, the battered heart decreed. Let scattered arms of silence Hide the stains of inner War, while They sleep. Leave The trail of smoke embedded in the asphalt.