i’ll walk the empty streets alone
The streets lie silent, endless and bare beneath a sullen, unmindful sky. Shadows from the street lamps dance along the pavement, in time to the soft shuffle of the feet. There is nothing to be heard but a rustle of leaves here and there, or perhaps a hum from afar, as if the world has stepped back and left just silence and stillness.
Dark windows peer down on either side, without warmth. Every step reverberates through the solitary reminder of how hollow everything feels. The silence is heavy, like an unseen shroud that wraps and presses in from all sides. It is a silence that feels almost heavy, making the world seem smaller, more distant, and somehow more hollow.
It gets darker; streets extend, known but strange, with this curious comfort: a delicate soreness and the impression that something’s missing. Lonely, stretched shadows of silence track out under the lampposts keeping abreast, step by step, not to offer fellowship but merely a pale glare of solitude spreading wide in the vacant indifferent heavens.
