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Her Demons
April 3, 2015
Melancholy reins his body
On the days of her absence
And when the sunrises
Are golden and angelic,
Her hair comes to mind
And so he sheds a tear.
On the afternoons he can hear
The imaginary echo of her laughter
Naked, uncontrolloble laughter
The kind that makes his body vibrate
With chills.
And so he blows the smoke
To forget
But he gives up
At 2 am
When all the demons of
What she used to be
Are sleep-walking.
© Annie M., Columbiana, OH
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