It feels wrong This eerieness in this air This weird feeling My rotten heart loves it Mirror watches but I don't see myself ash on the sill black milk in the glass names scratched out from all pages I read with closed eyes the light bent wrong and fell inward (small flames dance backwards) It said something from the floorboards so I stopped breathing just to hear it again They’re still in the house but it’s quieter now like no one's ever left and no one's ever arrived just ghosts rehearsing the same scene a century too late glass cuts, once then plays again but slower until it forgets how
