Photo by Claudia Soraya on Unsplash
She sits pale and sinister in our windows.
There is no escaping her, her hideous smile,
her gnashing bones, her nothingness.
On those rare nights when she is invisible
her phantom still rejoices in your great, hanging shadow.
She is your moon, the impenetrable heartbreak
which holds us hostage in a nightmare of togetherness.
3 thoughts on “WIP”