She lit a smoke, but the ash never fell, Time stood still in a black-and-white spell. Her heels wrote poems on the rain-soaked floor, No bullet in hand, but she held a war. He knew the codes, but stayed like stone, The world unchanged, but inside — unknown. Limo just yawned, like legends do When they know the end is walking through. The neon trembled like a liar’s eye, Truth hung heavy in the alley sky. She didn’t run, she never does — Her silence louder than a dozen guns. He stood still, a shadow on glass, No future, no past — just the smoke that passed. Limo paused, ears tuned to fate, As if he heard the city hesitate.
