by Monica A., 14
dark lights
shady coffee shops
grey skies over the horizon
two dollars from an old man
rusty jewelry, decaying piece by piece
vintage black tea from the attic
no connection whatsoever
dim streetlights
unopened milk cartons
broken silverware on the sidewalk
chipped nails
alley after alley
never anyone in sight
it is I, alone without single form of stabilization,
unknown, inconsiderate, nostalgic,
the birds don’t listen nor the oceans,
sleepy eyes and bony knees,
falling apart just like every other in this city,
we are being destroyed, slowly, step by step,
but no one notices it except for me,
the shadow who walks around at midnight,
trying to warn you.
Bridge Ink 