Claudia

16

Warm July Vacancy

It’s when I’m surrounded by white
noise when I feel the most alone.
When my brain drips empty thoughts
and even my bruises will stain the skin
that covers my vacancy.

I’m in a constant trance of numb walls and starry eyes.
No marrow for my bones.
No arrow to pierce through cerebral catacombs.

Sitting under an absence of starlight
in the dew dripping night, I stare into the black
as cicadas chirp chirp chirp their song of the great unknown.
The glow of each still breathing
soul fades to shadow as we look on,
and still we look on.