A/N: This is a compilation of my poems and such.

-Tay

.

.

.

.

i can feel the weight of the wind
whistling through your hair,
it is thick and it is toxic with

words.

over and over they repeat to me

warnings.

stranger voices without faces
telling me the same thing:

run.

and i feel your thoughts,
sluggishly wading through the
alcohol induced stupor

finally.

the wind burn has painted a novel
idea onto your face.
and though your mouth says

stay.

your expression says otherwise.