she tiptoes through the empty hallway,
the sound of her own heartbeats ricocheting off the walls
and filling her ears,
and holds her breath.
the ghosts -
they are still haunting her.
only there is no hallway
and there are no true ghosts
only the ghosts of her
unhappy past,
of her uneventful present,
and of her useless future
still materialize in her disorganized mind.
YOU ARE READING
sweater weather
Historia Corta♥ so let me hold both your hands in the holes of my sweater ♥ a collection of drabbles, musings, and poetry.
