Pavement

I sit on the ledge staring down
At the lights of the billboards
Of women in fancy lingerie,
The cars driving steadily past
Like they’re on a production line,
Their driver lulled into
A false sense of conditional security
By the pantomime life society has encaged us in.

And I sit here, feeling so real
I can’t even bear to let myself think,
Because when I ask myself
What this all means, I don’t have an answer,
I used to have an answer.

The pavement serenades me,
Promising it’ll never let me go,
Romanticising the steel grip of finality,
But I’m not sure death means anything either,
I just want to feel something
For the sake of knowing that I’m alive,
And that somebody actually cares
That I’m still miraculously here.

© Richela Rosales Maroto 2019

3 Comments Add yours

  1. Pantomime, concrete embrace of the city… great writing, so relatable.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it. =)

      Liked by 1 person

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