Windows open wide, the breeze combs through my hair
and travels up my thin shirt.
The night begins to settle into my quaint room,
casting a faint grayish blue hue against the walls.
A melodramatic hum of wings being rubbed together
fill the space around me; the sound creates a calm
amongst my chaotic thoughts.
From the confines of my twin bed, I observe
a time-lapse of automobiles beginning to fill the
space between the white lines and the street lights
They change the tranquil hue of my sanctuary to that
of a dirty orange glow and I remember the fire from
the pit two summers ago. A few friends and I threw a party
on the beach and spewed empty promises at each other.
Always, we will be friends.
Always, we will keep in touch.
We haven’t spoken since.
Night has fallen and the room is pitch black,
all of the secrets spill out of my mind and
splatter on the wall.
I scurry to turn on the table lamp
before they consume me.
The dark is no place for a wanderer.
Looking out of the window, I watch
dark objects move within the
white glow of the streetlights as
the sun takes its final bow.
And I wonder, unlike in the reality
when the sky becomes a post to a feed,
when the pigment is too intense for somber eyes,
why there wasn’t any pink in the horizon?
Was I not deserving of the show?