Rain thunders on an empty bin, its metallic echo cutting through the silence.
Water mingles with tears, dripping from the leaves above.
Beneath the hedge, she lies shivering, her T-shirt soaked through, her face streaked with salt.
“Please let me live. Please let me live,” she whispers to the night.
Cars roar by, spraying puddles over her makeshift bed.
She remains unseen, hidden from all but the insects
and the neighbourhood cats, their yellow eyes gleaming in the dark.
Fear coils around her, pressing tightly,
as the last drunk stumbles past,
singing a slurred song of lost love and broken promises.
He pauses, swaying, and relieves himself against her fragile shelter,
the stench of beer mingling with sweat and fear.
A burp, a fart, and he staggers on,
his shadow swallowed by the night.
Darkness folds her into its cold embrace,
offering a semblance of peace,
a fleeting moment of safety.
Her thoughts drift to the faces of family and friends,
the ones who are gone,
the ones she once loved.
She wonders what tomorrow will bring:
What to eat, and how to find it.
But tomorrow is far away,
and for now,
she sleeps.
—-
When I was 17 I was homeless for a year. It happened to be one of the wettest years we had known for a while. many stories on my site come from that time.
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A soul who never completely gave up.