Dec 13

All Alone

All alone
I want to run up to him
And talk to him
But I don't really know how.
His shoes leave scuff marks in the uneven snow.
I laugh half-heartedly at the words around me.
I wonder if that is why he walks away from us.
I don't really blame him.
His hair blows slightly in the winter wind.
In my mind,
I pluck an imaginary flower.
To talk
Or not to talk.
Before I can decide
I need to turn down a different street.
I yell goodby
But he doesn't hear me
Or maybe my voice was just swallowed up by the frosty air.
I hope what's left of his day is better.
Because right now
Even though there are 7.5 billion people in this world
He is alone
All alone.

 
About the Author: LadyMidnight
"There is nothing to writing. All you have to do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemmingway
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