Soft, so soft I murmured The windows open the breeze brushes my shoulders Lifting strands of hair To tickle my cheeks Air, calm Plants I chose surround me a skylight Raining sun streams onto the wood table Breathing deep, I drift eyes cloud over to a figure alone facing the river South Street Seaport school night I watched me Look to the city lights twinkling Arms folded on the fat rail the humming current of downtown New York City ever present Loneliness gripped my wrists Trapping like the water of the east river beckoned by the pier, keeping with the cycle Hoarding filth, washing out to the Atlantic Our family apartment two blocks away Though It never felt like home Heavy battleground and the night was frigid I found my spot in front of that one bench, I come often watermark-stained cement from when the high tide visits my breath haggard, non-smoker float out of my body part of me hoped someone would come, gently notice
it is the city it doesn’t sleep I was 16 and escape was beyond being tied down
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 