The shallow fissures on the pavement street veined their way past gorged concrete potholes.
"Like a de-militarized zone," my moms boyfriend would say. I would open my window, looking at the calm trees, sleeping on the streets at night, and alone. They sat at different homes across the block. Out of speaking reach.
This neighborhood has the calm of the moment after a deep exhale.
The paint hanging on to the majority of the houses screams until its hoarse, but somehow can't be heard above the hush. This world, my world, was dusted in beauty.

After being aware that way, for sometime, there comes an inevitable moment in which your control turns on you, and you think, that undoing thought, 'how long 'till it slips this time?'
The last line was gold.

The rest of it was hit or miss for me, and I'll go over that later but I felt obliged to comment on the fact that that last line was... so ****ing relatable.