fictionate

the sky would look perfect. the city below me? perfect. and as my imperfect self paced across the roof of the building, i would talk to the people below me who did not know and who i loved and might have loved. i would speak of things that no longer mattered but needed to be said, anyways. the words inside me would finally live in the sky, and with the soft song of the city playing in the background, i would remember. and then i would turn around and run. the last of the sun would have just disappeared, and the street lights would flicker, faintly illuminating the world i was no longer a part of. i would think of your smile that saved me onc