I am a cold vapor, a whisper— I feel
nothing when I walk. My
loose skirt gliding gently above the
The dust stirs slightly in my presence
but that is all.
I want to be the spirit who
throws china with a heart-breaking crash.
I want to be the memory that
raises hair on your arms.
I want to be the phantom
you call to in the night, when no one is around.
But silence is mine. I leave
the light on
with tears that
won’t wet my cheeks.