Poems From The Heart

Previously

…The sun finally climbs high enough to cast true light, exposing the accumulated debris of the street—the fast-food wrappers, the broken glass, the ephemeral evidence of lives lived just beyond my reach. It shines, brilliantly, mockingly, illuminating the dust motes dancing over my worn knees, particles of the world I used to inhabit, now just floating dust in the air I barely breathe. The cold streets haven't just taken my shelter; they have meticulously stripped away everything that made shelter worthwhile. There is only the next hour, and the grim, silent certainty that it will demand everything I have left, which, judging by the ache in my chest, is alarmingly little.