Messages in the street

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this in ten minutes at 4am in Mauritius.

Submitted: September 04, 2013

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 04, 2013

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A A A


 I used to write messages in the street.

That were never understood.

But you, you could.



A solar sunrise magnified blitz the iris of my mind.

A burst, a crack, overload complete asphyxiation, I implode.

Absorbent saturation, defiant determination.

To get the message out.



These letters used to follow me, an alphabet in the street.

I felt the words grow close, almost form,

into a singing, speaking, dawn.

A new break, a different way to a free day.

 


I yearned for such a letter, printed in the street,

brought to tangible life like the motion of a dancers feet.

Rhythm, purpose and beat.

 


Then, you became lost, I learnt of loneliness and untrust.

There was no one to see my alphabet along the street. 

Printed boldly on gratified walls, 

broken windows and derelict doors, 

even on the worn pavements, 

all my letters were there.

But you were gone.

 


I managed though, to carry on.

I learnt in life to speak. 

Forgetting that alphabet of ours plastered around the streets.

Yet, I always knew, no matter what I said, 

my words might as well of been silent,

even dead.



Cause no one out there knew, only you,

the truth contained within my letters in the street. 

I know you felt the beat.



And now, what remains?

An invisible alphabet carved in the street. 

Stained.


© Copyright 2019 Amy Shunker. All rights reserved.

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