My lullaby is the emptiness
the way that there is no one between the floor and the ceiling
the dart throw of solitude
a raspy voice that whispers
"you are alone"
to the quiet
the hand that is not around my waist
the lips that do not kiss me awake in the mornings
a locked door
two
three
locked doors
a twin bed with dirty sheets
eyes that say
it is the evening
you best be going
now
No comments:
Post a Comment