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A Poem by Cyfia

we were standing in the middle of the road

dont you

remember?

waiting for anything

to take us

away

a car

a bus

illness

a needle

decay

we wanted so badly to be bitten by the cold

so we left our jackets on the hooks at home

despite what our mothers told us

we never looked

to see what would greet us

down the

road

Author's Note

unsure about the breaks

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Added on April 3, 2015
Last Updated on April 3, 2015
Tags: short, poem, thought, death, ailments

I write based on memories or intrusive thoughts. Feel free to add feedback, share, etc. more..

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