The View From The Window On The Thirteenth Floor

She gets into the car she drives illegally,
Long hair swishing past her neck
As she shakes off the struggles of the day.
Grasping the steering wheel,
She floors it
Just to escape the boy that sat beside her just yesterday,
To escape the kiss that stayed behind in the car.
Passenger seat, she glances at-
To her relief,
Nothing remains but the lint from his hoodie,
Her favorite.
It hurts like the dashboard telling her, “out of fuel”-
Everything just screams, “empty, empty,
Empty.”

Slamming the breaks,
She threatens to break-
To break the silence of her alone
She tunes the broken static
To the radio stations on break,
Singing of broken hearts breaking, brokenness, and going broke
All at once.

At the first syllable of the word
Love
She flinches hard at the thought of loss
And runs up stair after stair
To the thirteenth floor
Where she can look out to futures that don’t exist,
Like relationships that don’t last. The sky bleeds purple
Into clouds that threaten blush,
And she cries her heart out to the birds that offer sympathetic caws
Only because she knows that this
Is the end of the road.

The View From The Window On The Thirteenth Floor

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