winter
I watch the traffic lights change.
I could cross the street now, but somehow there is no motivation.
the traffic lights change back to red.
I blink and watch the cars speed off again.
I close my eyes and listen. It just sounded the same as always, like »city«.
I open my mouth slightly and in my head I taste city; somehow metallic, smoky & bitter.
I walked across the street and down the underground station.
- no colors
YOU ARE READING
4 seasons of me
PoetryOthers write only the good, others only the bad...this is the place for those who felt both. Who loved and hated. A Journey, through a year of my Life. Winter (lonely). Spring (finding). Summer (love). Fall (losing). One year. Four seasons. One...
