Before the Storm

The sun shined the most brightly, than i can ever remember, that
evening in the midst of winter.
The clatter of doors and feet, busy people, slave people surround the
area.
The staccato steps towards my new silk, a picture, a memory re-egnited
and ready to move.
Nothing compared to the stances, the duologue exchanged upon the
crimson lips of lust, those first looks of want, agreed. A progression
to a new horizon.
They eyes that once held such promise, glowed with sweet indifference
, now a matte colourless scene.
Communication decays, lonely nights seem longer all he time, and
somewhere in the burner of emotions, you know its all wrong.
can you do better? or is the thought of solidarity foreign to your
massaged ego?
Truths haunt, you don't want to believe it but it could turn either
way.Is this the end?