the deconstruction of a sunset
~~~°~~~
What weary hearts
poured onto meanderings,
turned into kaleidoscopic sighs
and all the filth of soot
of last season's apologies
now dances with fire,
twirling in a martini glass
engulfed by clouds of nimbus.
Does the lady wishes
to part from the man
or longs the touch
of the woman in the window?
One can never tell–
for sunsets are...