Ghosts
When the lights come on, memories evaporate. The walls of the room behave. Porous, primed, and paper white. Fear retreats where it learned to wait. And here I stand anew and unmarked. But, darkness does not forget. When the lights go out, the walls ooze and exhale. The dark consumes me once again. Old versions of myself return, merciless. Wounds not yet turned to scars resume their bleed. Guilt and regret dance like shadows. And I let them watch. They do not accuse. Extending their hands as if we once agreed to meet. They ask why I am startled. They have worn my face for years.
when the lights go out—
the ghosts I once left behind
breathe my name again
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