Long sighs and cigarette burns on the white curtains that cover the only window in your
coffin-sized bedroom.

Pink haired girls feeling insecure, smoke drifting out from the neighbor's bonfire, children laughing with their sparklers lit and sparkling,

and you're crying.

It's not new, though, comes frequently, an every-day forecast told by the same forecaster, each sentence spoken so similarly that it feels like you've drifted back in time for only a moment,
because you've heard it before, you've heard this before.

And we'll hear it again before the sun rises.


Mothers laughing with their young daughters, hand in tiny hand, hopeful eyes so full of life, long sighs.

Pretty girls with smiles that are so much less hurtful than the sun, lovely ladies with pearl necklaces that shine like teeth on their slim necks, they like to lose themselves in the night.

And at this time, the night so late that even the the moon went to rest, everyone left still awake is connected,

a thin, dull white string, tied around the slow breathing chests of the people who remain alone, awake,

eyes so open that their eyelids strain.

Tears dried into the heavy purple bags that accentuate your green-blue eyes like smudged eyeliner,

do you hate yourself because you're alone or because you're lonely?

Road lights as tall as lady liberty, blurred in your glassy eyes, the sky is black but everything is full of light and the subtle vibrations of the miles going past by minutes and you're smiling, everything is beautiful life is beautiful you're beautiful.

and it only lasts an hour before it stops.