This Way

 

I haven’t walked this way.

The faces are white sky bright and the taste of burnt coffee sticks to the roof of my mouth like tar.

I’ve never felt so sick.

I haven’t walked this way.

The steps are grey like the day and the circles under my eyes.

I’ve never been so blind.

I haven’t walked this way.

Those boards create an illusion, a pyramid, and I always question their sturdiness, but they held up that winter night.

I’ve never been so cold.

I haven’t walked this way.

Green seems impossible in all this grey, yet there it is, blanketing.

Is that why I still hope?

I haven’t walked this way

Since my hand was held, my face was warm and next to me was you.

I’ve never felt so lost.

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