the wind

stepping in time to the tempo that drums in your head,

you lick your lips and feel the cold in your teeth.

the bitter, cutting wind.

like thousands of tiny razor blades were laced in a summer breeze,

a slice to cut you open.

let it cut you open tonight.

the burden of veins is never one that lasts long. everyone needs release.

now is your time.

open up.

it’s okay.

the wind will sweep the tears off your face, leave bloody trickles in their place.

a perfect swap. the pain of bleeding on these streets is always preferred than the sorrow of keeping the warmth of that blood inside.

an overworking heart will kill the body of it overflows, and your skin is veiny and alien because of it. because you never let the wind save you.