Sweeter Innocence

Thunder rolls across the avenues, drenching pedestrians in the torrents before disappearing as quickly and letting the sun set in a deep peach glow. I find it difficult to breathe lately, but it doesn't seem to be the weather. I ran along the river late last night; I ran, and ran, and couldn't get myself to stop, even though the waters were black and the promenade emptied of people. The bridges of Manhattan contained me, but that was all. 

She says What good is talking? All that's left to say will hurt, but you are already reduced to shreds, what more damage could words possibly do? 

You set your alarm early

sleep until the wolves wake you

again.