Nov 18, 2014
The Living Dead.
Sometimes I talk to the dead.
I lay in her bed, and get my shoes dirty from playing with her sheets. I bring her trinkets, hoping they will amount to more than forgotten trash weathered by the morning mist. I water her flowers just in case she can actually smell them. You know, just in case.
When I’m feeling optimistic, I hear her in the wind that sends the pinwheels spinning. I see her smiling…
View On WordPress