The solitary candle fervently seeding a distant dwell near; below the moonlit street. Winter kissed cold wind caressing the flame lingering amid that candlelight dwell casting a dancing shadow of an open letter written with ink yet to dry out the wet maple window into a yellow street lamp. Silence followed the shunting rails and the smoke breathing barrel. He checked his wrist wiping the blood off his watch; a second past four; of the morning. Thin lines of blood scattered cold. The red falling over the ink yet to dry nested the blue. Silence followed.
He held the flame; leaving silhouettes of white up and pellets of warm red down the lantern. Silence followed. He should be leaving before the parade of sirens deluge the awaiting brittle night, he knew; but the silence around her held him tight for a brief moment. The sundown street grew brighter into the night. He checked with wrist for the last. Leaving her black rose bleed red over her cold hand, he left the floor; leaving the silence to conjure the night; and her.
The winter chilled sidewalk folded warm by solitarily lamp gleaming a dull, sun like yellow over that brittle nightfall. Footsteps out the scene followed for the fervent shade of yellow under that street lamp. He stayed; leaving tears of blood on the snow dwelling white road.
The silence bewildered with nearing sirens like a poetic dubiety. Four minutes left. He toggled his wrist for a before time. The sun fell out the sky for its night. The very night began. The silence. The yellow streetlamp started a flicker.