Wicked Jinn

My lids are heavy. My brain churns thoughts. I run for home, spooning with dog. Exhaustion. I am aggressive and stalwart.

Solitary Respite

Closing the spaces I once shared. Closing the trust I once spared.

Wind comes, leaving half torn remnants of color, a pinwheel once moved by breath.

Fear is an illusion. I invite these intrusions to include truth, even if it hurts you.

What does my face look like when I cry? Un-pretty, swollen blood red eyes.

I wonder who you are anymore as your voice echoes dismissive screams disguised as suggestions.

What is it like to be granted a wish when your first kiss was laced with bitterness?

They said they found her drowned below the galley. She had tried to scratch her way back to sea.

Dissociation took her to the moonlight, away from what was happening in the dark moment.

Empath; this solitary epitaph, words come lucid, swept on tides, murky.

Shattered into a host of ghosts I never saw a demon save in the memories of my screaming.