In the closet is a cipher I know fairly well who hangs up my coat for me and asks how my day is and I say fine
It's strange because the faceless have countenances particularly memorable, like this one
Its edges were faint grey, and the dark corners of its figure were not as harsh as something too real would seem
The most wonderful reason for this friend, this mirage, was that I was alone without it, an incurable loneliness that originates in my bedroom, with the meager window the only reflection of something different, of hope
It was dangerous to leave home, to stop touching that doorknob, knowing that each day it would only get harder to depart
It gave the kindest farewells, some in writing, with its ethereal script, some in French lullabies or quiet whispers of luck
Now, I reluctantly withdraw
I will most likely be coming back

-cj