i had a dream the curtains closed
i was dangling by my throat
soft lavender lines marking the deceased
with feet so close to the floor, yet so far
cracks adorned the ceiling
like a chandelier of their own
pale skin, already a ghost
staring into the mirror, nothing stares back
i'll try to scream the culprit
but my lungs have been popped
bursting the silence in the apartment
the colors seem desaturated
that black wall is now gray
the colors seem desaturated
and the blood is pink
a fragment of a pretty dress
in a tulip field
the colors seem saturated
this dress is red
the colors seem saturated
and the girl is dead
strings move from her joints
to her throat, only just below her head
the colors are gone
the world is black and white
someone call sherlock holmes—
{ Girl Murdered in Her Own Home! }
