cars on freeways
passing through small
abandoned ghost towns
if anyone stays
it's just to wander
among the wreckage
and rubble
listen to their footfalls
echo with the
weeping wind
i am sorry if
the gas station's
lights have blinked out
they are tired too
they call for visitors
that never come
and when they do
they clog up the restrooms
leave the floor waterlogged
touch nothing but their
feet on the ground scurrying
like the rats living in the
walls
their footsteps run faster
than they run
nothing lives here
but the people coming
through with their
eyes staring blankly
forward
to the concrete black river
that leads through
more of us
nothing lives here but
the sounds that
follow you around.
do not speak to them.
i have. they cling to
my ears like the gum
littering the sidewalks,
dark, ugly, irremovable.
cars pass through
headlights shaking widely
as they roll on.
the town waits.
no one stays.
N/A: been a hot second. i haven't been able to write much, with life and school and all, but here's a poem. i hope i can be more active on here! i do have an archive of our own where i've been more active on recently-- my user is @writinginmeraki, if you want to connect!
thank you so much for reading. i appreciate it. :)))
YOU ARE READING
the soft
Poetrythey say to be soft is to be powerful but it gets harder to believe that every passing day
