when the sky is brilliantly blue
and gruesomely gray,
i like to run through the city.
sometimes far, sometimes not.
it’s always going to hurt.
my body stings sometimes.
but i have to see through
to the bigger picture.
it’s what’s best for me;
it’s what makes me feel good,
even through the pain.
just like my past.
sometimes i miss the city,
but not all the time.
your scent does not linger there
like it used to,
like it should.
that was our city but we
tore it down.
build it up to tear it down.
that’s just the way
that these things go…