home is a hollow,
carved into the carcass
of buildings that once
held life, held love, held light.
hid myself away in the
crevasses; too deep to
really see, close enough
to the surface that they
eyes would still catch
the outside light.
found me in the reflections
and refracted silhouettes.
saw the ghost of the girl
trapped between then and
now, there and here.
tried so hard to coax her
out, save her, set her free.
the thing about saving
ghosts sewn into the darkness
is that they're more siren
than shade, and they'll
drown you in their darkness
before you ever even notice
the thinning of the light.