There’s something in the air this time, the streets are whispering my name. Still I don’t know what to do, what to do with myself. I’ve been here before so why am I still nervous and waiting for things to happen? It’s the same old story over and over again, just different in circumstances.
But tonight this heart plays a different beat than it did before the days grew shorter and had memories to reclaim. Those times are finally growing old and won’t ever wear me down. The streets are calling me out and, for this I’m sure, the pavement won’t ever let me rest. It won’t ever let me rest before it drags me down, pulls me under and never lets me go.
If you just listen close enough you can hear this heart beating inside this hollow chest, under the color in this skin, behind these fading eyes. Go on read me like a book, I won’t try to wash the words away. Turn the pages, there’s plenty of stories waiting to be written by these hands.
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