I hate the way the wind steals centimeters of my cigarette, hate the way it shares my moment of silence without me even knowing. I hate how it just comes, unbidden, & sets everything aflutter, unsettling things that are easily shaken (like leaves, like trash, like me) & leaving in its wake a trail of overturned things, messed-up things, displaced things. I hate the way it ruffles my hair, blows in my ear, touches my face. I hate how I can't see it even though it's there, & I hate how I can't see it even though it's everywhere. I hate how it just comes & goes, without saying a word, without making a sound. I hate the way the wind's left me; dishevelled, & caught unawares, cigarette blown away.
I hate the wind for staying so, so silent. I hate the wind for not staying. I hate the wind just *so ******* much
bad romantic poetry at 2 in the morning, cuz I can