Shrouded night

The sense of loss was
Not evident in your
Stoned visage,
Nor your spirited soul
Reeked of
Disappointed destiny.

I noticed the pattern
Below your frosted bourbon,
The tale of jilted name,
Peeping through the letter,
Your manicured talon traced.

The layered, sparkling gloss,
Unsuccessfully veiling,
The jaded smile.

"Trance it is.",
You blasted my ear,
Clanking your heels,
On wooden floor,
Flipping your wild mane,
Aimlessly at bodies
With name less faces.

The sense of loss was
Not evident in phosphorescent
Shadows.
Nor the neon lights,
Reeked of disappointed destiny.
I noticed the despondence ,
In the dark circles around
Your eyes,
Whispering the romance
Of your sleepless nights.

Truth bared itself
In harsh full moon
When the silver threads
Shook the uncomfortable existence
Of your fragile heart.