with the crackling of the fire
and the whirring of the ceiling fan
all cluttered thoughts are swept away
and the very world feels
Melancholy
i can feel the fabric brush against my skin
i can feel the hum of lullabies in the back of my throat
and i see in the window,
a ghost
she retreats in fear that no one believes her,
held hostage by her memories
she’d like to slip away but instead
she’s stuck in my window frame
her face is pale and her eyes carved out
like her sculptor scraped too deep
translucent fabric hanging from her frame
