Cityboi
xeom boiHe keeps his collar up on the late night train,
Phone in his hand like a paper frame
Headphones on but the volume low,
Reading every message twice in a row
Friends all say he is doing just fine,
Posting little jokes, standing in a straight line
But under all the neon and the noise outside
There is a quiet heart he is trying to hide
He acts like he is used to every crowded place,
Still counts his breaths before he shows his face
What a strange little soft-hearted boy in the city,
Walking through the crosswalk lights like it is pretty
Trying to look calm, hands deep in his coat,
Carrying a thousand unsent notes
Everyone sees only streets and stone,
He is busy turning every corner into home
If you stand close you can almost hear
All the little feelings he is holding near
He buys his coffee at the same small stand,
Knows the barista but not her plans
Thinks about asking how her day has been,
Swallows the words with the heat and the steam
When he falls for someone he walks three blocks more,
Just to pass the building with the rusted door
He never says much, only sends a song,
Hoping they notice that the lyrics feel strong
He laughs at himself for being this shy,
Still checks his phone like the time is a sign
What a strange little soft-hearted boy in the city,
Walking through the crosswalk lights like it is pretty
Trying to look calm, hands deep in his coat,
Carrying a thousand unsent notes
Everyone sees only streets and stone,
He is busy turning every corner into home
If you stand close you can almost hear
All the little feelings he is holding near
One day maybe someone will match his pace,
Read all the lines he never says to their face
Wait with him under one red light too long,
Turn his careful silence into a song
Till then he is tracing every glowing sign,
Saving up courage one small step at a time
In a loud bright world that moves too fast,
He is a gentle boy hoping this soft heart lasts
What a strange little soft-hearted boy in the city,
Trying to live quietly in a world so busy
Acting like the noise does not get in his head,
Writing secret poems on the way to bed
Everyone sees only streets and stone,
He keeps learning how to feel and not feel alone
If you walk beside him you might find too
There is a softer city waiting inside you