i'm falling a little too close to the edge of oblivion ~ faded blue
maghrib [evening]
My stomach groaned as I stepped onto
the fα∂є∂ red lines designating the end
of the sidewalk.
I hadn't felt sick in a long time,
and the grief inside of me
had refused to let itself go,
but I had begun contemplating
on whether,
anything was worth it, anymore.
If it was worth it,
to spend my last dimes,
or cσllαpsє on the edge of hope.
It was as if I was clutched in a constant game,
of cat-and-mouse,
only I played both.
And as I stared
at the green leaves ｏｕｔｓｔｒｅｃｈｅｄ
as if palms trying to steal
the last of the pǝɹǝʇןıɟ light,
I wondered if they too felt
ａｌｏｎｅ.
YOU ARE READING
faded blue
Poetryin which a girl writes down her thoughts on tattered blue pages, with only a worn-out copy of the Quran, a long dress, two granola bars, three dollars and her Lord to guide her while surviving on the streets of New York City. ~ They say that somewhe...
