the neighbor
has been watching
me cry from her
balcony, resting the
tip of what appears
as a flickering ember
in the dark on her
solemn lips
she always watches,
when i sing, and now
as i cry on a chair by
the pool-- she has seen
darker parts of me than
the people i trust most,
and she is a stranger,
one i have only ever
seen in the shadows
of her balcony, lit
by the cigarette in
her shaking grip
i begin to think
of her as invincible,
despite the tar that
gathers now in her
broken, mortal lungs
YOU ARE READING
i wouldn't call it poetry
Poetrybasically, this is like less than half of my poetry journal. umm... here you go UPDATE: 12/20/17 I've been going through the long process of cleaning up my account so it'll be presentable for the now multiple people at school who want to read my emb...
