you know that feeling,
the broken windows
shattered housing
empty sidewalks
cold of bodies
all alone on lincoln ave
with nothing but dust in sight
drawing circles in the wet concrete
in front of her streetlight.
these memories i have, they never disappear
and though she's long gone
it feels;
like every breath brings her nearer to me
if she wasn't dead; and life weren't stretching so far
onto the horizon i'd go; but in reality
i know nothing; in truth
i'm nowhere.
its 4am. i'm sitting here. looking out the glass.
and yet, i feel the concrete on my hands