feeling strangely out of place by the light of the lamp post,
she eagerly walks into the black of the night,
feels the cold dank of the darkness embrace her,
it welcomes her in.

she feels like an unwanted house guest,
who has over-stayed their visit,
in the town she had made her home, made her life in,
for the past four years.

a place which she had now outgrown--
and frowns upon her with a skeptical gaze;
wondering why she dares to stand by the light of a lamp-post.

and each step she takes is a
wedge in her heart,
separating her,
from a former version of herself.

she told the sun
sweet secrets,

he promised
not to tell,

silly girl,
no need to worry!
it's always hot in hell.

paper cuts on your lungs:
you can’t slow down,
you can’t slow down,
you can’t breathe.
choking, suffocating
on memories.