there was a faint knock on the bedroom door that crept up the wall, inside my ears, and into my dream.
the knock raddled the door making noises and it felt so real,
with the presence of you screaming at me in my dream.
again, the knock hit rising louder and my head turned the pillow
i suddenly woke up and opened my eyes, wide
looking at the white space above my body.
i thought i heard you there,
i thought i heard noises.

wind shook the poorly sealed window that had been resting in it’s place since the ’40s.
i dazed out at the leaves dancing between branches and could almost feel the air rushing
through me. inside of me. like a gust in my gut and bones, like the blood that kept me alive.

it was dark outside but a candle kept a small glow in the corner of the room.
i turned over to face the bedside table and reached for a staple of paper that held every meaning that was inside of me, every meaning that i carried to continue my life for, every meaning still inside of me today.

pushing myself up and against the backboard of my bed, i pressed the pen to the blank paper and a noise crept up the wall, inside my ears, and into:

The smell on the sheets
keeps me holding a headache;
it belongs to you.