Tuesday, April 11, 2017

The guy passing by asked for a cigarette,
no way.
Short skirt, shuffling in slippers
The smoke of the cigarette, the horns, the sings
Vulgar, she did not even care,
She walked, numb, with the music that screamed
In his ears, words that hurt,
Wanted to keep it that way, maybe at night she would
Cut off, get drugs, maybe.
She no longer expected the man,
Words seduced, lost with the
Speed of lightning, dangerous toys.
Knives were safer than a poem, an
Blue-eyed poem, a play without
She forgot, it did not matter anymore, nor were they
More blues.
His hand trembled with ember, waiting for the
Wind went off.
He showed his finger to the driver of the truck.
Screw this crap.
The bridge was near, the running river called
For the jump, she felt stomach pain at the thought,

He would sit there, he would jump there, he would wait.

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