Kenz (vrgnwhore) wrote in writingprojects, @ 2004-06-26 06:55:00

Where you are
The pictures blurred
Streaked with afterthoughts left behind
It’s her.
The smell of her hair still feels your senses
As you walk the streets alone.
Paying attention only to the pavement beneath your feet.
The only thing you have left to focus on,
Everything else cramps your brain.
I watch you from where I stand,
Immersed in the shadows,
Wondering what chapter of your life she fits in.
It’s intriguing really,
The way you smooth out the metal on the watch you hold.
A gift maybe.
Because you start to cry.
Crumbling shards of grass between your finger tips.
I stand and watch
You kneel and fall apart.
I could say something maybe,
But words would only increase pressure
To the already shattered.
On my account
It was my fault.
The roads that night were unusually rough.
Her screams pierced my ear
As the metal entwined.
I didn’t know her name,
Unfortunately I’m familiar with her blood.
As it mixed with the rain,
Creating a river.
Her breath still rings in my ear,
Parting way with her lips.
She mumbled a name.
But the name I missed.
I think it was you because she began to smile.
Pages turn,
And still you’re here.
Tracing her name
Engraved
Lightly with your finger.
The petals on the roses,
They’ll frail and wither.
The connection between us both is:
That night will linger.

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