Scene 5
The ding of a small tower
The black air fills my lungs
The sound kicks my step around the corner
The view becomes no longer
The crook of my nose
The point of my toes
The smell of a stoner
The blue off on your collar
The staring wondering
The move forward
The breathing slower
The vision turns purple
The brownstone I clutch
The heat now growing colder
The clammy settling between my fingers
The fright of your demeanor
The strange being I became
The enemy too obvious for comfort
The green sick soaked shirt
The display of one I used to cover
The ding of a small tower
The black air fills my lungs
The stain you left between my legs
The hatred now brewing together
“… give me back my girlhood, it was mine first.”
