Vertigo

Vertigo

This would normally be another corny love poem in my typical overly-descriptive manner. The stars way above my head, the sky pitch black. The breeze gently pushing against my back and all.

This would be one of those poems, if this wasn’t the tallest skyscraper in the city. This would be a real tear-bringer if it was anybody but me.

Underneath me the cars sit on the side of the road and a cop gives a parking ticket.

Above the officer, several stories up, I stand white-gripping the railing that was supposed to hold me back. My fingers resisting the urge to let go.

I would bore you with all the details of how I got to this point, but I don’t think I’ll bother. Not that I’d give a shit if you hated me for the things I’ve done or anything… I just can’t be bothered

Just for a summary, I popped the question to this girl I thought loved me earlier today.

You should’ve seen it, candles and red wine.

I got down on my knees the way they do in every romance flick since the dawn of cinema and I asked her. She began to cry… and I, thinking they were tears of happiness, started laughing.

Looking back on it, maybe I should’ve waited for an actual answer before I got excited.

It’s about this time that the details floating in… her pregnancy with my best friend.

So I hit her… what else could I do?

And that’s what leads us here, where I’m standing several thousand feet above what appears to be a sky of pure grey. Streetlights become little stars, and a light is on in the building down the block.

They call it vertigo, when you’re entire world spins upside down. They, of course, being the famous scientists of wherever… but what do they know?

I made a point to let her know that she was all I had left in this rotting concrete jungle. My one final spark of love now covered by the dark city.

Now there is nothing. I am the spit on the sidewalk fallen from the lips of the king I once was. She made me a god, stripped me of my robe and pushed me to the dirt.

My world was tipped upside down.

The cop gets back into his cruiser, turns on the siren, and tears off down the desolate city street. In a way… this is a shooting star.

As I said earlier, this would be a love poem or a tear-bringing short story.

And if it was anyone but me, I might let my character live for a change

This will not be a happy ending.

My fingers slowly lose grip and I close my eyes. My body rips through the quiet and perfect and cold that sets gently on the surface of this hellhole.

And they call it vertigo, where your entire world is flipped upside down.