Standing outside on the edge of my tiptoes,
I witnessed many strange occurrences:
The moon, round and white as the dusty china dish that holds my rings, cast rays so bright I had a staring contest with my own shadow
It was midnight yet I still heard the rubbery sound of a lone goose echoing throughout the busyness of an abandoned street
And although tears made pools of my eyes, the Christmas lights did not blur in my vision. They stayed true and told me I was out of place and they were not.
‘Twas an unusually warm for a night of December and I couldn’t help but to revel in the hectic night for a little longer than I should have

I'm still holding onto
the rose
whose thorns tear into my delicate skin
but I don't care
It hurts less than letting go
of that kind of beauty

I used to live in the attic of an old house
My room had a skylight through which the moon would shine,
casting shadows,
creating horrors for my young mind to feast on
Alone
Always alone, I created these demons
.....
Many years later a different kind of demon follows me
always there like a shadow of my past
I fear that all to whom I am close are apparitions
Gone with a subtle gust of wind
Dispersed through the world
never to be seen again
.....
Just like the fears of my young mind,
My shadows haunt me at night
and I hope to never face my demons in the daylight