The damp sidewalk turns into a corner
houses stand silent, faceless,
carelessly watching each passerby
hopelessly make their way through
the pale flicker of the streetlamp
telling a story about futility.
Slow paced breaths rise gracefully,
curl away silently
disappearing like wet footprints.
Still attached to me like cigarette smoke
forcing me to never forget this breath.
I could never forget the breath of frigid air I took
in a silent neighborhood at 1 AM,
no moon, just endless stars.
A silent breath. One that flows through your nose
down your throat and into your lungs in a steady stream
like a water faucet barely turned on.
Staring up at endless flickers of light, a futile effort,
wondering, should I even continue to
attempt to distinguish which ones are
burning giants, planets, or galaxies.
in which other humans are staring back?
If they were, I hope they have no awareness
of the futility keeping us apart.
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