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.