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Any Saturday Night

Any Saturday
And crazy takes its due
Life gets like those wild nights
Turning on the oddest of trysts
In the twilight
Darkness sighs its last testament
At dawn
Death whispers
A
Sweet denial
“Not now my love”
And as whispers do
It fades
Forgotten
Like a lovers promise
Leaving me alone to live this life

On any Saturday night
You always find the right reply
To fill the shifting silence
Where the ghost of an anonymous stranger
Lingers
Staring at the flashing lights
And mistaking them for stars
You’re the judge on this night
Feeling strange
I listen for that whisper
Shivering
Losing my convictions
In the empty space
Of any Saturday night

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Your poem speaks to me of lonliness and gloom
but I so love your wording

Chrys

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sung by many a young person, [especially young men], on many a Saturday night; but with a modern sound.
Lonely and convincing. ~ Geez.
.

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Thank you, I always look forward to your comments

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