Colours have no direction.
I see.
A flash of dashing white
*Dark skin crashes
against white tank top,
pressing forward
And her braids fly, cutting
air, slicing to let her*
go
*And she goes, one single
Breath, fleeing cars, unyielding to
crosswalks and lights
Never side glancing to the honks and
the white man, orange hand*
*Her feet makes ripples
on pavement, noting
to go, to go, she must go
A human life, ten toes
Whenever she wants, she goes*
*She is the apparition
She molds herself through
Graffiti and concrete, leaving
trails on others' shadows'
Feet*
What makes a human
want something so bad
To run away, to get to
And to forget all the things
That can end you
She must be alive.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
Colours have no direction.
I see.
A flash of dashing white
*Dark skin crashes
against white tank top,
pressing forward
And her braids fly, cutting
air, slicing to let her*
go
*And she goes, one single
Breath, fleeing cars, unyielding to
crosswalks and lights
Never side glancing to the honks and
the white man, orange hand*
*Her feet makes ripples
on pavement, noting
to go, to go, she must go
A human life, ten toes
Whenever she wants, she goes*
*She is the apparition
She molds herself through
Graffiti and concrete, leaving
trails on others' shadows'
Feet*
What makes a human
want something so bad
To run away, to get to
And to forget all the things
That can end you
She must be alive.
From the bus window, I saw a person running fast through a static crowd. Before the eye can blink, she disappeared.
In my mind: She has a direction. She's every color.
Request permission to use this poem