Shuttered – 

The walls cave in on her,

like the roof of a long abandoned shack.


she clings to the apathy of a cold cup of coffee.

Did you like it?”

A voice from nowhere.

I sent you a dream.”

Tithes of cigarettes,

and butterscotch candy.

Brick dust shakes in a cracked windowsill.

Tiny waves ripple in a fresh, steaming cup

and the tea leaves shudder.

An old, kitchen table serves space for an ink pen and paper,

And I write your story.



– Savannah



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