there are some looks
words
silence

a nervous gathering of belongings
a discrete sense of alarm
so subtle, only subconsciously detected

a follow-up question
(do you think I'm stupid?)
an answer, as simple
as it is honest
(no)

the silent threat
of a door being shut

and the end to a story
never written

from climbing stairs that crumble
and saving babies
suffocating in cellophane
to a sink filled with blood
and a never-ending neck wound
I awake to a greyish day
that brings travel
and hopefully relief