Concert
She smells of smoke and her lips taste like beer.
He carries a yoke and bathes in his fear.
Strobe lights flashing.
Her hands thrash madly. She pounds the drums.
His head pops at every cymbal crash.
Moved by the moment, carried by the crowd.
They stand still. Hearts like pounding bass.
Feedback. Throwback. Tipped heads back.
Sweat drops. Sweat rolls. Sweat won't put out the fire.
That burns. His insides. Connected and alone.
The music has faded but their ears still ring.
Lust like love before its jaded and their ears still ring.
And buzz. Like the alcohol that's washed away.
Disillusionment and cigarettes both leave that smell.