Street talk

Streets talk, And corners get rainy. I hear them gossip About fire In alien speak. They scream at the pavements For catching weeds, Yet compliment car crashes On their kind donations.

Fantasy

Is it cold in here Or is that just me? Is it the ice from my heart Spreading down my limbs? Or it is the chill of your breath As you talk to the room? I am too caught up in your fantasy, I forget how to truly be me.