Tuesday, December 20, 2016

A Whisper, a Howl

And there's an uncertain wavering light
Slicing through the windowblinds
Orange lines like bars across my forehead
And the air inside this room feels much too thick
My bare legs beneath the blankets are warm and slick
With anxious sweat, the things we try to forget
Crawl back from underneath our beds and
Hover haunting above our heads
Outside a dog howl breaks the night
Reminds me how with every passing second
The light is dying within our eyes
Down the hall there are photographs
Of places we can never go back
Into the bodies we used to have
Scars never grow back, bones never uncrack
With every gray night that fades away
Every circling waltz of the moon
Drags us farther from those photographs

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