bittersweet dreams
like
that
gaping old victorian
with dusty stairwells
only swept by drifts of passing wind
calling you
with echoed longing

empathetic with
the rarely seen or heard
little soul
in the walls
occasionally tip tapping

up        above        your        bed


dancing on your head

those shooting shivers
sent from the grave
forgotten and walked on
and oh so,
******* beautiful

feel endlessly alive
like those nights that you attempt to forget