Thursday Night

Black heels clicked on the pavement.
They were leather and unmarked. Brand new.

She held tight to his arm as they spoke.
With a frigid blast of wind, she huddled closer,

black heels clicking on the pavement.
Her blue hued skinny jeans were old. Faded.

He wrapped his arm around her tenderly.
You could see her face flush and emotions rush causing her to trip,

black heels clicking on the pavement.
Her dark brown hair was a mess. Ruined.

He helped her quickly and she looked up at him with trust.
They seemed in a trance as he pushed her hair back, eyes locked.

Silence was all around them, no clicking of her black heels.
He leaned forward and pressed gentle lips to hers. Pure perfection.





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