This big city life had left her on her own,
Scrimping and saving to make a home.
Every night from her nineteenth story view,
She looks out over all she’s been through.
Wondering how it all came to be so shallow,
And why she never allowed the pain to show?
Sliding open the thin glass door,
She wonders if it’s worth it anymore.
As she steps out onto the balcony,
Realizing all of the dreams that never came to be…
The half full wine glass still in hand,
Half full of emotions she’ll never understand.
A look down reveals the fall would be steep,
Still better than living with the secrets she keeps.
To never be lonely again,
Seems worth making the pain end.
Her ‘pretty in pink’ polished toe,
Resting on the ledge and ready to go.
Long brown curls twisting in the wind,
Her heart racing her thoughts pinned…
To empty relationships and dead desires,
Depression drowning all these old fires.
Just once she longed to find that embrace,
The one to take her from this dark place.
A man who would love and cherish her flaws,
One that would stand and fight for their cause.
But this world only brought her dismay,
Broken dreams that continue to play…
Without a soul left to care if she were to die,
She bids those nightmares goodbye.
The polished toe now chipped away,
Reporters scurrying through the day…
A story of a woman, who fell from grace,
And the jump that finally gave her a face…
City streets lined with passersby,
Tear filled eyes that shouldn’t cry…
No one even knew her name,
Or anything of her silent shame.
Still candles mark the stoop of that Manhattan high rise,
Don’t they always, when a celebrity dies?
YOU ARE READING
Where the Broken Go
PoesíaPoetic tales of life, longing, and nightmares I can't keep out of my head.
