What is it that you imagine when you look down from your second story window?
I first imagine flying
What do you see when you feel the zephyr on your crack lips, your dry skin, and shallow dark eyes?
I see the whole wide world
What do you think of when you let the wind carry the unheard echoes of your voice?
(And) I start to think about how tired I am
What traverse your mind when the breeze blows your hair trichoptilosis and your sorrowful cries?
(And then) the image of me, on the floor, looking up at the sky, slowly dying, traverse my mind.
4.14.18
Share:
Be First to Comment