Neon twists inviting letters

on crumbling brick

you know the place needs

some work, not much

just a little T.L.C

the bell rings over the door

because you finally

made up your fickle mind

and went on in

You went looking for

your happy ending

and saw promise 

in the scarred interior

where others only felt

unwelcome

a little sweeping

then wiping rain stained

windows to shine

finally, it would be home

the hands held your heart

sometimes, they squeezed

a little too tight

and you bled

but you kept on believing 

with time, callouses would wear

thin, and give way to tender

touches.

your wanderlust kept you away

when you had to find

your own shadow

so you left that place

though ghostly fingers

remained looped in your

fluttering aortic valves

and you traveled, head down.

then the feet stopped itching

and you walked by just to check

because the ‘You are Here’

on your map

always made a dot right there

but there was no neon

no door and no windows

just faceless brick.

sometimes there are

no happy endings.