I'm sitting alone outside in the cold
with purple polyester gloves gripping a cigarette almost smoked to the filter.
The air nips at my nose and ears.
My jacket is zipped to the top and my scarf wound tightly around my neck.
It is dark and late and most windows are dark.
Some are open and faint shrieks of gossiping women are swept my way.
I am alone, sucking on a stick of nicotine, with only myse
I find a cloud hanging over my head named Kat.
It is a dark, thick, cloud that unsettles my stomach,
making me either grit my teeth
or hold back tears everytime
I devote too much time thinking about her.
She was my friend.
I think of her fondly sometimes - when I'm not cursing her very existence.
The stone I sit upon chills my body bottom to top while glowing ashes are wisped away.
I watch them fly and think about how she flew away into the darkness.
And I think about what happened.
I don't know what happened.
I once thought of knocking on her door - that door.
I pass by every morning and pray for it to not open.
I've caught glimpses of her here and there
and there was nothing - there is nothing but a moment of stagnant air,
where it becomes hard to breathe.
Look away.
Eye connection means deathly, cold stares.
Have you put this all on me?
Made an excuse to not blame yourself?
I doubt I'll ever know.
I mustn't give in first,
trying to salvage something that is no longer there.
The wind gusts again brutally.
The cherry has blown away.
I am left with a paper shell and a filter.
I stand, discarding the extinguished butt.
As I reenter the building,
I leave my thoughts of her with the wind,
to be blown away,
so I may move on...
and forget.

please forget.

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