Night. My daughter's eyes. Ink. That pool of water that I stepped in last night in the rain, in my red leather shoes. Warm and cold, nothing. Everything. The abyss looking back at you. What's behind the door you should not open, pouring out of the phone you should not answer, the back of the mirror you should just leave on the wall where it is.
I miss you.
It’s dark.
No comments:
Post a Comment