Did they warn you about me?

he asks, wearily.


And suddenly I am ill

with empathy.


In his tired eyes,

I see my own mistakes.


My own fuck-ups

and follies.


My own sinister ghosts,

my own misgivings.


My own readiness

to be someone else.


To be fair, I tell him he should run.

But neither of us move.


We stand forsaken

in the street light.


Two misplaced souls

assembling our hopelessness.


  1. what beautiful, swirling compassion for you two, standing there, still, in the windy street

    1. Thank you so much. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.

  2. Reblogged this on conradzachary's Blog and commented:
    One of my favorite poems

  3. I love this piece, it’s so easy to empathize with, and so sincere

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