The stark midnight air, infused with the velvety flourish of the urban lights
Rustic, the design, the fluidity, of how the night comes alive— the brevity of the party
Along the blinding boulevards and sad alleyways are the hearts that search for the perfect getaway
Their poignant truths hidden away in exchange for the lust of ephemeral euphoria
It's 2am and my head is spinning, cigarette ashes still burning, my dinner on the sidewalk curb
Settling down on an unknown street, my legs buckle and I taste the gravel
Cold, hard cement is the lost lover's bed, they said
I'm no lover, I'm just lost— my bed is the tears that collect in my stead
The city lights, the skyline, it meets my eyes with sudden bursts of color
Aurora borealis in the metropolis, nobody would have believed me
Do you really need someone to tell, when you can appreciate the beauty yourself?
In the middle of the city, where everyone and everybody greets each other, but doesn't know each other; I'm here on the ground, laid flat with my arms wide, staring up the sky, with the stars making new constellations inside my mind, the enveloping silence, my only friend— it's not so bad, being around at midnight. It looks like, soon, it'll be daylight.
//k.u.
***
Note: challenge was "Enveloping silence" by GrimtheGremlin ! Is it too quiet? Hmmm?
YOU ARE READING
The Quarantine Book
Poetry"--the stillness of isolation, the blazing aloneness, the rich moments with loved ones, and the sole solitude of the person. The rumination of a bored writer, a reflection of the months, a reaction to the silence and loudness of life. It's a methodi...
