Pictures line the walls of an empty home.
Leaving the door open,
every night, is my routine,
at least, for now,
somehow, it makes me feel safe,
erratic. The air is cool and encompassing.
Can the moonlight find me,
or will it get lost, tonight?
Missing my directions,
every night, I am empty, every night.
Barely a word is spoken,
all night, I lie in wait.
Can the moonlight find me?
Kaleidoscope memories haunt me.
