the streets were empty, and the asphalt shined with the late storm's rain. but it was silent now. roaring silence, which screamed each time the light switched between those three incessant colors. oh how the red screeched the loudest of all, a silent scream, "STOP!" the wind pays no mind, and blows right on through.
This week I have wandered. alone, a lost ghost among my regular haunts. from the coffee shop in the park to the icy edge of the ocean I strayed, Then returned to the warm yellow windows of my family home. My hair is a mess, hasn’t been washed and left in a low tuft, at the nape of my neck, twined together with a green satin ribbon.
This week I have wandered. Alone, a lost ghost among my regular haunts, from the kitchen I crawled back to the warmth of my solitary sanctuary. And there I stayed, as normal, in my navy knee length sweatshirt and joggers.
And now, as I sit in my single bed, pale back against the radiator, the tears finally come.