Stay silent,
eyes sewn shut,
and you can almost hear
the whispers
from where they once were
when they were still here;
chatter,
laughter,
now only a blur, white noise.
you get used to it, you know?
Stay silent,
with every sore step
on blistered soles,
and you can almost hear
the shattering of abandoned dreams
fractions upon fractions;
the satisfying cracking
almost like an attraction
a sick addiction
of mine.
you get used to it, you know?
Stay silent,
with the company of only your shadow,
and you can almost hear
every breath of this
godforsaken town,
breathing in... and out...
a frosty wind blowing at your fingertips,
only to reassure a sense of belonging.
you stay awake as the city drowns
into an awful slumber.
until my demons find me, I'll walk alone,
you'll get used to it, anyway.
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC