The skyscrapers skin the blissful blue out of the cityscape
and I try to escape the looming cloud raining red droplets.
Stiff in the precipitation, I run towards you–towards nothing.
The edges of the buildings are as sharp as my banter
when I first laid my eyes on you in the crystal snow.
The heavens stain my white dress, as if I spilled red wine.
Maroon snakeskin boots don’t bode well in the monsoon,
so the heel cracks like a stabbed back.
Pedestrians poke their heads
out of shattered windows, whispering about the mess
my life possesses in the shadows of the city.
None offer me sympathy or shelter, so I hobble towards your home.
The color red runs deep through your driveway, like a marathon,
I stagger my steps. As I approach your padlocked front door,
I hear hammering through your thin walls and wastedly wonder
Are you building an ark to save me from the storm?
My bleeding heels sink into your soggy dormant
until I sink alongside it, choking on red runoff–
I drowned knocking on heaven’s door.