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Allete Ives Oct 2015
This is a place of artistry
Of beautiful images painted upon a city
Where lights reflect the magic of stars
You'd think you found a dream walking between cars

Alive and part of a whole
This is a place everybody knows
Where anybody whose somebody story is told

This is a place of importance
Of bold colours stamped on towering complexes
Where hipsters drink in smokey bars
You'd think you were a cool kid in black
Gonna go far

This is a place everyone goes
Where lovers walk hand in hand
And kiss like classic T.V. shows
Unaware and unwavering as the night sky
There are no boundaries in her side walks and street signs

She is clear as glass,
An expensive gold,
The main act premiering across the road

You wouldn't glance twice at Mr. Invisible
He is mute of colour and silent
Nearly lifeless and murky

Hiding in plain sight for all to see
He isn't glamorous or beautiful
The only art he holds
Is the cardboard tent set up for warmth
Against the cold

Tucked in the folds of a heedless city
Is poor Mr. Invisible
Allete Ives Oct 2015
His name was Jon
For short.
He had blue eyes that turned to green,
Innocent but they lied to me,
And it can still weigh heavy on my mind
In humble silence.
His name,
Jon.
For short.
Allete Ives Oct 2015
I was a waving flower
Graced by the liquid warmth of a new sun

I had roots clinging with such power
That I believed I would never waver

Until the shade of my naivete fell

I am a dried ounce of potpourri
Rotting in a picture frame

Waning in the moment
Of how delicately

My exultancy carries into
Cipher

— The End —