Here I


here I sit
on a wooden chair
inviting the birds
of felony
to scratch my skin
and choose my nerves
as the building block
of their domicile

here I stand
alone on street
staring at a dead twig
menacingly
the tree it left
now soul bereft
I pick it up
and twist it in my knee

here I walk
with a girl
under an umbrella
beneath the roof
she called me
to join in her facade
now I accompany the 
drizzle in her heart

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