pixelated signs

darkness with a smell so obnoxious swallows me
into its stream

after all the flailing of hands when ghosts have slinked away
it is not safe yet

sigh from the corners, whispers from the tiles, her rasping breath
against the window

if I reach for her across the grey mist ringed chill at the edges
she withdraws in silence

skirt bunched up and slouching in the deep cave of fear
isolated as a fetal

with only the gods to stir the pot of creation, throwing in
blessings, but mostly

signs that balloon into monstrous sizes, characters pixelated
that she cannot read

November Poem A Day: Write a fear poem


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