The wind simmered on my forehead
Cold and warm, like menthol balm
The road ran underneath us,
Until it became a silver blur;
Miles of sorrow and exhilaration
Hide inside the cracks of our feet
We basked under a glistening bridge
A sunrise made out of cement and streetlights
I stretch my hands, to tie the wind
Between my fingertips and fly
©wine_mirrors