(for Dorothy)
A wounded soul in a black dress
walks the night alone.
The smell of vodka and nicotine in her mouth
and her face a picture of a broken heart.
The city is like a portrait of her
and her past love – a broken promise
hanging on the wall of her memory,
a treasure she guards with tears.
Every place in the city sends back photographs:
Tequila Saturday smiles,
conversations over coffee,
a lip-kiss sorry,
her fingers intertwined in his,
eyes fixed on each other,
not caring about tomorrow.
Every road she walks brings back images
that she doesn’t want to remember:
flashing city lights,
spaces under street lights,
long public benches,
and the same familiar voice
resonating inside her.
She doesn’t know where to go, but she’s not lost.
She is in a trap, but she enjoys being inside it.
She just walks the city each night, leaving behind
a trail of white smoke and gray ashes.
—-
Markus de Dai was born in Pasig City but studied AB-Mass Communication in Holy Cross of Davao College.