39

that sound you hear is the silence ringing inside an empty ghost. biding her time she counts the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months. patience was not her virtue.

going through the motions she watches the hands on the clock tick, tick, tick forward. (onward and upward) in an attempt to self preserve, distance and disconnection are her only options. fake it until you make it just wasn’t working for her. (who was she kidding, really?)

the ache where her heart once lived had started to feel like the rule, rather than the exception. inside a room that once felt like home, sorrow and despair had taken up residence. these guests were not meant to stay long, but had made themselves feel far too comfortable to leave.

frightened like a little girl, this ghost has come to terms with the need to grow up, so she can make decisions like a woman.