It’s been dark for hours
yet she cannot sleep—
lying in bed
waiting alone.
“Tonight is the night”
she etches into her mind.
Her apartment: solemn, unkempt—
hallways lit by street lights.
Before she leaves,
she traces her fingers
along the glass,
months-old dust
protecting an image of them.
The road she walks
leaves footprints in the mud.
She stares at her ring,
hands trembling slightly.
Through the woods,
she reaches the tracks.
Along the rail, the bridge hangs
above the highway.
Looking out only to find
sparse headlights—
illuminating tire marks
on the shoulder,
a sorrowful memory.
The fall will kill her—
she steadies her breath,
nods her head,
and leans.
The sun rises in the east;
the birds start chirping.
She stops and listens,
staring down the way.
The birds had made up
for lost time
for lost memories
The night is over;
she returns home.