My hands hide in my pockets,
shoulders hunched, humid with droplets.
"C'mon, Chiara, how far have you gone...?" I whisper to myself.
My eyelids must be weighting
like a thousand tons,
I spot a shadow leaning against a wall,
but, though I blink, I still can't focus
on it all.
Fumes are spiralling in the grungy sky,
dark gray, as a cigarette leaves the mouth.
"Chiara?"
"It's funny. I've thought of all the people I could have seen here,
and none of them were you."
I blink faster, desperately.
"Are you doing drugs?"
_____________
_____________
HEY GUYS!!
How are you doing?? I'm sorry for updating a bit too late, but now that I'm done with school I'll probably do so more often. I'm so happy when I see your comments, definitely leave one to let me know what were your thoughts on the chapter!
Do you like the poetry style or the ordinary prose style better? :)
Also, if you've any ideas on which people could be playing my characters that'd be really cool to let me see!
Thanks for the support,
xnotjustsomegirl :)
YOU ARE READING
I named her Africa #Wattys2015
PoetryI didn't mind if my fingertips were rusted with coffee grounds, or if my palm still hosted bread crumbs, I reached out my hand across the table, and you squeezed it but proved me wrong. My mind was spiraling, my heart, unstable. ____________________...
