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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2166212
by Elle
Rated: E · Poetry · Ghost · #2166212
I once heard footsteps walk from my wardrobe to my bedroom door...but no one was there...
Footsteps weighted with truth and substance,
tread    steady    and    deliberate
across hardwood floors,
by the trivialities of physicality.

Unaccompanied at all.

Illusory shadows in the dark    dissipate
to leave the chill of the graveyard    lingering
on clammy skin and white knuckles    clenched
in a desperate, silent plea for
safety,   sanity,   and
                                an angel of light.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2166212