you ever sit so still
that you can feel your heart beating, beating,
beating in your chest
without even heaving a heavy breath. the gold
lights that dance in the skyline
and the beams that barely make it past your sight
as the cars travel along the buildings;
still
you hear the wind leaving, leaving,
leaving voices that you once heard before, and
you thought they were memories because
you're sitting alone
with the built-up tension that dances like the cars,
that are mirrored on the glass of the
buildings that stand
so tall. those specks of red
from either the sun, or your head
return to the moving vehicles when they
stop
and give you ten reasons to worry,
that you won't ever be the same as you are
today; so you sit, you breathe, and you leave
because the sun has set, and you must retreat.