it’s been two weeks

in this window seat,
having early morning coffee, and late night staring
at what remains of the sky
with all the tall and brooding buildings around

so this is how it feels to be small,
so this is how it feels to not see the stars or the clouds or the horizon,
it’s all lines and squares and shadows,
moving around, exchanging places when you’re not looking

you’d never think that a city this big could be this quiet and still,
with only the lights from the streets dancing around,
and the silhouettes from the lighted windows shifting, and stirring like haunted figures in a movie

i’ve always wondered how things will change this time

i still don’t know how to feel

maybe I have forgotten,
maybe I do not know how to anymore,
maybe everything’s been too much to know how to feel

it’s been two weeks

and it feels like it’s been two years

maybe I’ve learned to change as fast as life goes,
maybe I’ll get used to this window seat,
singing many songs, writing many poems, wishing many things;
without stars, without clouds, without seeing the grand fullness of the sky and the long reach of the horizon

it’s been two weeks;
maybe I’ll remember how to feel