sitting alone

break into shards of glass as i
puff on my third cigarette for the morning

the coffee lies cold on the table, where
busy ants make their way to the other side

the silence is deafening, but alluring
comfortable, it keeps me in a magical bubble

i read slammerkin; prostitution and sex
and my blood slowly turns cold

the hair on my arm rises as a rare cool wind blows
the coffee stirs itself clockwise direction

eyes on me - a feeling i cannot fathom, but
believe in it because i cannot doubt myself

i know there's no one in the house, but what if
the wind has become a part of me?

because i want to soar, to fly
and i believe in those invisible wings of mine

so i sit there, the comfortable silence, broken
& let the silence take me in