Apartment 213

The street lights bleed into the windowpane. Another shadow walks the city rain.

He smiles polite. He shakes a careful hand. The quietest wolf in all the

land. He knows the secret language of the lost. The heavy price

of what control will cost. In apartment 21, 3, the ceiling fan

is slow, where the welcome sign is fake and the roses never grow.

He collects the pieces, tries to keep the light, just a little

slice of forever in the middle of the night. The lock clicks shut,

a quiet final sound. The darkness he embraces is the deepest to be