“she sleeps, she’s quite,
she’s depressed...”

parental whispers,

I hold my breath.

Before the crows wake
I'd better collect the light
the moon has left me.

She stood next to the mantle
her hair was dark, that's all I noticed.
She said some things to me,
I was afraid.
I dreamt her.
When I woke up she wasn't there,
but when I fell asleep, she was there.
Waiting.
A ghost.
The one she heard when leaving.
Well, pretty little girl,
Go away. Leave us alone. Stay warm elsewhere, please.
Next time I don't want to be forgiving.

in ruins
yet there will be no confession
lest a scythe be heard
scraping