Cycle:

The air is thick and cold
the kind I ache for
endlessly, bitterly,
striking across my skin
freezing my fingers
turning me to dust
there's a bird
with pretty black wings
he doesn't know it
but I've named him Meg
there's a boy
whose all right for me
but I'll say nothing to him
and he'll never notice me
he wears a caramel sweater
and smiles at me before crossing the street
I could smile
should have, would have, ought to of
but I walked to class
and so goes the cycle.

Comments

  1. I love this, it's very realistic and hits so close to home, great job.

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    Replies
    1. I am so very glad that you liked it and that it connected with you.

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