A/N: I wrote this during math today. No lie. It's been a couple of months since I've written anything, so when inspiration struck, I thought I should run with it. Let me know what you think. R&R me, I'll R&R you. Keep writing :]. -Pammy
You are skyscraper.
Tall and strong,
announced into this world
two decades ago as
a phenomenon, a wonder
after hours of labor and sweat.
The second your hazel windows
opened there was applause from
here to Hollywood, where
you say you'll end up with me.
And I think about how hard it is
to uproot buildings and relocate
without losing some of the initial value.
You're already in need of remodeling,
the elevator between your heart and your head
is broken and the resulting sparks come
out of your mouth, hitting me in the face and
knocking me to cold concrete.
Sometimes the wires rearrange themselves and
your heart looks in shock through your hazel windows,
but your head insists you didn't break anything,
so you tell me to clean myself off before I come back inside.
I can tell from the way your foundation is cracking that
you're not sure how to stand anymore.
And as your age increases people run out of patience,
spreading graffiti and frustration,
vandalizing every inch of you with no intention of
fixing anything they break.
I keep away who I can but you keep snickering, opening your doors,
saying I'm crazy and "please come in".
I hear people talking about the bad press that you bring,
how the care you need isn't worth the cost of the upkeep.
What if they decide to tear you down? I ask and
you say you don't want me around.
I linger out of sight of your hazel eyes,
tell people I don't like to keep walking by.