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Anthony Esposito Feb 2019
I was smoking a cigarette, in the early morning hours.
Devoured by the fog that came to claim its home.
The neighbors started shouting as they usually do.
The city starts to wake and speak.
I wonder what it says to you?

The wife began to clamor out the front door.
Dragging behind her, her husbands clothes.
He followed behind her not fazed and unamused.
Like this had happened before.

A single taxi  stutters by.
No service sign is lit.
The drivers face, like a ghost.
I wonder where he’s been?

The whole world is working.
It never stopped, since I’ve been standing here.
The streets lights begin to flicker off.
The sun begins to rise.
My cigarette has long been out.
And my lungs again fed up.

I wonder where your waking up?
I wonder do you think of me?
A city so big you could hide forever.
A city so big we could rule it together.
Set fire ourselves.
Burn it down if that’s what we pleased.
Or we can build it up.
Have towers in the sky.
And watch it till we grow old together.
I wonder if this could be?
Kylia Nov 2014
It caresses my face,
Rubbing one velvety gloved finger up and
Down my neck, tracing up the
sharpness of my chin,
My, what a contrast.

The wind is like
Dry ice,
It freezes lips shut and
chills even teeth,
But when it warms,
Your skin craves it like
Parched throats crave water.

The wind is like an
Earthworm, it burrows straight into my
Nose when I tilt my head back.
It slithers through the holes in my shirt,
And breathes in life.

The wind is like a swarm of
Bees,
Stinging my eyes, making them leak.
It stings for a second, then
Flies away,
Only to attack again, and again,
And again.

The wind is like a spider's
Web,
Invisible to the untrained eye,
Yet strong as steel--
Maybe even
Stronger.
It catches stray objects and
Swallows it whole,
Trapping them in its
Unrelenting fist

To me, the wind is also a force of
nature, both
Meek and Mighty--unpredictable
But what is it? Really...
It's all up to you

Everyone has different opinions on
Different matters, so
Please
Don't judge.
Watching hair fly while staring out the window aimlessly during a thunderstorm proves more inspiring than I thought.

— The End —