ManicWorld Magazine

It was already dark.
I’d stopped believing
I’d find my way back home.

Behind me — footsteps,
A breath caught
Like something just beneath the surface.

No chance i knew him,
No reason to care.
But i didn’t want the tram
To take him,
Not into that cluttered city-night,
Its silent cold,
Its lamps all burning
Like they didn’t mean it.

But the tram came,
And it took him.
Turned the corner.
Was gone.

And i smiled —
Not quite right, not quite sure —
Because now, no one could say
I ever cared
For a stranger
I never claimed to know.