Boarded Up

I can see you’re boarded up —

your

broken

heart.

It’s creeping through the haunted windows

that speak of memories

like post-it notes — left on the fridge

needed but forgotten again.

Like a mystery

the way the broken chains

of oppression lay

just inches from your skeleton,

tons of weightless words

that bear down on broken bones.

Left turn at the alleyway

last breath.

Another turn is priveledged —

what’s suffocating

is the distance in-between.