Literature
Burying September
If you were a person, then I'm
something you've forgotten; something inadvertently lost,
discarded on damp, cobblestone walkways where tattered
beggars are just lingering sympathies.
I think I now can relate to unintended loners,
the ones more enforced than observed
Lost within themselves, as I remain lost in darkness;
They without company, and I without you.
If those like you are people too,
then they are all virtual, resembling you with acute precision;
your glow, your warmth, your light,
all which bring about feelings of belonging, and correctness
Yet I find myself abutted to clinking cans lacking of change,
huddled within p