#210-Outside

Deserted streets late at night.

It’s cold.

I’m alone.

Lamps shining like the sun,

Painting a warm glow,

My hands cannot hold.

Imaginary,

Like the loves I felt,

In naïve, idealistic years.

Young and confused,

I chose to feel the outside,

Escaping the loneliness inside.

How curious that today,

I seek the remnants of that past.