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She is an October sunset.
It's getting late and the clouds have turned red, the sky's a dark blue.
I watch as she skates, though it's getting difficult to see.
She is the noise of a busy McDonald's.
We sit in the booth with two other people.
We don't really talk but we've acknowledged each other.
She is the smell of cigarettes.
One between her lips and another behind her ear. We catch eyes and hers are a pale blue. Almost like Ice, which though, just as piercing are not cold.
she is the prick of a needle.
I lay on her bed, looking up at her ceiling as she stabs the ink in my skin. A little coffin on the inside of my arm.
- Why is it you're so difficult for me to read? What goes through your head when you spend time with me?
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YOU ARE READING
~ HUMAN INTROSPECTION ~
Poetry~*~*~*~ ~*~*~*~ A collection of poetry and philosophical questions made to question the relations and views we have of ourselves and others. I encourage readers to explore themselves and allow their thoughts to run unfiltered while reading. I hope...
