the leaves were on fire
and falling off the trees,
littering the streets with broken treasures
my sister picked up and twirled by her side.
I stole the tiny umbrellas
from everyone's drinks
cramming them into my bag
to remind myself later that
it was not just a dream
an upside-down-river
a café that sold knives
people getting married
a girl with red boots and black hair
the wind was cold and calculating
tearing through my useless dresses
streaming into my blood
my bones
my heart
the cold made me realise
just how at home I felt
in this city of people
I'd never met
I wanted to know them all
I wanted to be able to ask
the waitress about her niece
and wave at the couple in the park
and borrow that man's bike
and ask where she got that book
that city is alive
and I want to hear it breathe
*******
yeah yeah shut up
YOU ARE READING
pretentious drivel // short stories, poems, and the usual c**p
Losowea collection of short stories, poems, and general sh*te. don't have high expectations. please note some of these are old as h*ck and don't apply to me any more, i might just think they're good. // cover art by pascal campion //
