A line in the sand that bears your footprint.
A fork in the road that's two ways to wrong.
A framed photo of an absent guest.
Speech-notes that never leave your pocket.
A drowning swimmer in a dried up sea.
A ghosting fox in a forest of rustling thoughts.
Sheets still tangled in last night's sleep
The seep of water between slippery fingers.
The stuck hands of a stopped clock.
The monster wearing in your worn reflection.
The hand that leads down tree-lit streets when the night aches too brightly to put on companied stillness.