Sometimes my heart is dark as night. I step out of my body, watching the girl on
the bed, pillow over her head, shaking like a bag of bones.
This fear recreates me.
I step outside, feet barely touching the
clouds of snow that hang around like thugs on a streetcorner. I am warm but
know that I shouldn't be.
This fear recreates me.
I look inside windows and see people
staring at televisons. I watch a woman lean over her kitchen sink with her
hands full of bubbles, weeping.
This fear recreates me
As I smooth my static, ghostly hair from my
face a child plays silently with toys that talk back but don't say the words he
wants them to. He is weeping.
This fear recreates me
And curtains close, and lights shut off and
I am born again.
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