Descending the stairs,
Running and expressing her grief and
Reaching the road.
She can smell the tarmac melting,
She can see the smoke rising
Like a thousand exhaled drags of a cigarette.
The hot air makes her clothes
Stick to her skin.
And she,
Walks with matted hair
And sweat begins to pour
From the back of her neck falling,
Along her spine.
Her ankles give way,
She hits the floor, with the
Plummeting sound of raw flesh
On tarmac.
Until she looks up.
Ascending the stairs, in the
Night air, she knows
She’s all she’s got
And she’s got to hold on.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 10:23pm on Nov 13, 2024 via server WEBX1.