concrete

it was the echo of 

a ghost-town, but she is

only hollow, not

transparent

now she sits in a lost alleyway painted
with rust;

scribbled clauses on 

the pages of her journal have begun

to fade

flickering candlelight, catch

a missing note of music, faint 
sprig of mint in the pounding
silence

sometimes bags 

can't be unpacked, letters

not written

scattered feathers of a parrot, sing

the chorus, again, again

we are, we were, i am, i was

and it hits her, harsh reality 

of concrete;

rough, tight-lipped texture,

wild hands of graffiti,

opaqueness never undone.