cold hands

the sun
slowly climbs
the tallest buildings
of my skyline,
as I sink
below the bustling
and on windowsills
and corners
there are flowers,
that will fade someday
growing untamed
in bursts of yellow now,
just like the sun.

I spend
enough time looking up,
to feel the
essence surround me,
and forget cold thoughts
like cold hands
still hanging loose
around my neck.

© SoulReserve 2017

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