Yellow cabs observe through worried mirrors,
When I stare at streetlights passing fast,
This city is crowded with lost glass slippers,
And five feet boxes of lives ajar.
You wore orange on your lips when I worked my hands by,
Like a liquid pool of sunrise that burst upon my skin,
Time is but a pawn of hope, she whispered as we parted,
I watched as love quietly suffered your cost.
They hum prayers under muted breaths,
Some chant through their friday night journeys,
When I watch the sea run by these rusted carriage railings,
My heart wells at the thought of where you might be.
These days are filled with fragile dusks and dawns,
How many have I seen in passing with you?
How many have we broken through promises you made,
I'll map them on the sky and hope you find me some day.