aPoemName

I miss those little moments in which I feel alive,
moments in which I find I’m outside of myself
in a situation I’d not yet encountered
gritty nights with half fun and half chill

late nights with leaves scattered on the ground
scampering across sidewalks
crunching under feet
dismal.

breath catches in the air, motionless
moments where the world stands still
and a breeze plays in the nearly barren trees.

No birds are chirping, they’ve all gone south
rusty metal railings keep me from falling
yellow paint peels from a wooden sign
pointing the way to an empty carnival.

A night without laughing or singing
my only friend, the crescent moon
a sickly sliver of light, slicing clouds.

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