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.
Heather Minette 
what beautiful, swirling compassion for you two, standing there, still, in the windy street
Thank you so much. I’m so glad you enjoyed it.
Reblogged this on conradzachary's Blog and commented:
One of my favorite poems
I love this piece, it’s so easy to empathize with, and so sincere