the quick horrible moments

the sugar puffed clouds seem to go gray
After I walk under beneath trees, dew-soaked
more or so of a midsummer day, yet spring air
polluting my lungs is the cigarettes

an man of balding hair, tinted of an oaklike color
reveals his eyelids when making contact with my rear
as i walk, i force my head to not turn back

when i see him in a true summer day
bones of my knees grow hollow, wishing me to fall to the grass
dusty breeze forces my hair back
but i only recently came upon the inquiry

how long do these moments last?

the present alike thin paper,
only fully seen from the surface
yet how quick will it remain in my eyesight?

i capture his face through blackened pupils
yet the memory so bright,
a camera flash, fast.
Written by russiamagda
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