Crack my spine and
Lay me open
Am I in those words before you?
Or a footnote
An observation
Scrawled in the margins
Run your hands
Over me
With your eyes closed
Am I Braille
Beneath your fingertips
Can you feel me?
If you lose
Your Self
Come and find me
Hidden in sentences
A map of
Paragraphs
Somewhere in
The shifting corridors
I am a haunt
A shadow; memory
One of those
Lost girls
Shifting scenes
And new
Locations are
Disguises, I
Am buried in the pages
Of your story
Like Echo
I have faded, until
All that remains, is
My voice imprinted
On a recollection
In a loss
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 1:03 PM UTC
Crack my spine and
Lay me open
Am I in those words before you?
Or a footnote
An observation
Scrawled in the margins
Run your hands
Over me
With your eyes closed
Am I Braille
Beneath your fingertips
Can you feel me?
If you lose
Your Self
Come and find me
Hidden in sentences
A map of
Paragraphs
Somewhere in
The shifting corridors
I am a haunt
A shadow; memory
One of those
Lost girls
Shifting scenes
And new
Locations are
Disguises, I
Am buried in the pages
Of your story
Like Echo
I have faded, until
All that remains, is
My voice imprinted
On a recollection
In a loss
