A passing rainstorm

taken by night,

I am muddled with

aimless highway drivers and the

helpless blurring of street light art

reflecting off the pavements.


From your balcony

I am tortured beauty

sliced unequally into alleyways

and neighborhood basketball courts,

the distant chiming of last call

and echoed laughter

like breaking china,

a midnight siren across the river.


When you’re feeling


you might stroll my tired walkways,

find diamonds flailing

in my many voices

that reach out like fire victims

from every doorway.


There is danger


beneath my eyelids,

they are drawn tightly

to shut you out,

only until morning.


When the sounds stop

in the in between

you’ll find me

like a brand new day,

I am collective,

every me is

yawning away the chaos.








Filed under Uncategorized, Writing

2 responses to “Collective

  1. This is a spectacular piece of writing. So full of fantastic imagery and vivid pictures in my mind. Love this Nicole.

  2. “When the sounds stop in the in between” love that line.

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