I wonder how many people
in this city
live on the streets.
late at night
when silence blossoms like tumor on our lips
when even the crickets hesitate
I walk among the shadows
of their past and present.
every face on the sidewalk
looks back at me.
blank stares.
cautious hands.
tired hearts.
and oblivious souls.
I wonder how many people
will come back home
and write this down.
the world rolls;
every moment is different
and so are the ones
in houses,
on the streets,
sitting in the future,
singing in the fleets.
close your eyes, and
read the language
of your wandering mind.
the heart knows.
We spent
so much time
chasing
the blinding lights
trying to live those
shiny dreams
trying to understand
and find love
through the shadows exposed
on the streets
through the strangers dancing
to our beats
in between
unknown bed sheets
that we let each other
slip through the
only moment
that was truly ours
somewhere in between
running from the past
and hoping
for a future together
in a way
that is
Ours.
my neighborhood sounds:
lots of
people and drifting leaves
workers in heat
with faces like old men
staying in their shadows
as I cross the street.
birds feeding their hatchlings
chirpings, barking and
two hands in solitude
holding, scribbling.
yet another shitty
poem
about how I
feel
sometimes.
Life in a blog 