Sharp Rights

There were little splinters of glass everywhere. Harsh confetti to end a cruel parade. And a puddle forming that smelled as much like salvation as it did surrender. Filling the tiny room I had taken with me on my trip.

Lovers. Addicts. You show me the difference.

Strangers swivel on their stools and I find myself staring at a friend. The sidewalk begins to sprint and I can't keep up. Don't want to. I'll wait for when they're ready to come back.

I will drink from the broken glass. Even though it's quickly losing what I want. Because in my mind, no matter what happens to it, it still the only thing that is whole.

I've always turned too fast.

Now there's finally proof. In the piss I left on the sidewalk that still smells like heaven when I get close too it.