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Olivia May 13
I’m walking
When the sky -
Black as a pagan heart -
Clouds my vision with sinister intent.

As I fall,
I can hear the concrete
Rip at the soft flesh of my knees.

The orange street lamps
Stretch a mockery of my sprawled form
Across the traffic lines.

It takes me a moment
To realize I’m all alone,
Dripping blood onto the sidewalk.

A thick, joyless sound
Escapes my lungs.

And I laugh and laugh
At my own foolishness
Because I usually don’t mind
Being alone.

— The End —