Young Writers Society

I didn’t need to look at

The wrist watch

Around my neck

To know the sky was sad.

It was always sad at this hour.

The way the watercolor colors

Assorted together in the sky.

The way the streetlights were beaming brighter.

I knew it was the hour

The sky would be sad.

The copper wrist watch

Around my neck

Swinged side to side

In between my chest

Full of the salty ocean.

I held onto the watch

I could feel the engraved copper initials

Get engraved

Into my veins.

Even though,

I knew the initials and what it meant

I like to believe,

I was a stranger

To the

Initials.

I walked

To the old record store

With the copper wrist watch

Around my neck

And

The sad sky

Above my dazed salty eyes.

When I finally got

To the old record store

I heard the old church bells chiming.

I use to go there

Confessing the sins

That dig into me

Making my pores larger

Now

The idea

Of worshipping a contradiction

I’d rather wait until

My sins

Bring me to my own religion.

The bell chimed

When I opened the door

To the old record store

Everything physically

Was the same

Early 2000 and 1900’s music

Playing in the store.

Ashtray and febreeze

Engulfed the air.

The quiet hum was still in your ears.

Yet,

The old record store

Was missing something

Or maybe

I was missing something

I don’t know

Ask the sad sky

It knows me better than I do.