Sitting above the Chicago skyline,
Cold winds sting as I recline.
I lose myself in the city's light,
Grieving what was never mine.
My mind wanders through empty streets
To a hotel room's wasted sheets.
I grow aware of the buildings height,
Thinking back to tea receipts.
Fleeing to a place all my own,
Falling faster than I've ever flown,
Into a shortened sidewalk's rocky bite,
I long for the balcony from which I'm thrown.
As I watch the pavement grow in sight,
I contemplate my final flight.
