IT’S NOT YOU… IT’S ME

You fall onto me A ghost from the ceiling Picking memories As if a strand of melodies Your hands search As if you’ve known me And I wonder Did you? Faint words land like tears Upon the pillow by my ears And your kiss just a whisper I cannot feel And I realize It’s me…

THE DARK ROOM

The dark room smelled like muddy, rusty iron.  It was hot in the room despite how cold the darkness made her feel inside.  Her space had a small room with a working toilet and a simple shower stall.  At first the dripping shower head was annoying but over time she began humming to its rhythm. …