in twilight town
the sky sighs in sepia hues
shadows stretch long across the boulevards
an ageless man sweeps the street
of an autumn that never began.
humidity hangs low over a stilted horizon
in filtered violet dust.
a woman leaves a beige cafe
tea in hand, headache in her heart.
she stands at the curb and waits for the bus
as she always does.
and she’ll wait for a lifetime.
the day’s dying rays stretch over the roofs
of identical houses and neighborhoods
whose windows and doors never close
whose garages hang open to choke
on silence and the heavy stillness
of an infinite summer twilight.
the sun never manages its goodbyes
the stars hold a breath they will never exhale
the moon never shows its face.
the cars are idling in the streets
waiting forever for the light to turn green.
everyone was a dreamer and a believer
until hope ran its course and left nothing
but ghosts behind.
By Caroline Chou
Caroline Chou (she/her) is a young writer from Maryland with a love for leitmotifs and magical realism. Her work has been recognized by the Alliance for Young Writers and published in The Aurora Journal, among others. When she’s not writing, you can find her reading fantasy, playing golf, or marveling at the way time passes when she procrastinates. She’s occasionally on Instagram @clswriting.