word less 

​there are people, wandering through my house, planting seeds of grief and devastation. 

the bleak smell of dried tears is adorning their whispered chatter.

abandoned footsteps on my garden path, my mum would be proud of the flower beds. 

dust is filling empty cupboards and lukewarm coffee is painting circles on tabletops. 

i want to capture this day, this moment where everything is schemes and shadows. 

in the hollow of the light i still can see your dancing form. 


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