the darkness would talk to me, breathing stories more like the feel of cold across my bare arms than
the echo in my ear. stories about how different things would be if...

if the world belonged to me.


then it changed, it all changed.

i remember, as a child, waking up from nightmares
of war and death and loneliness,
things lonely little girls should not dream of,
lost songs to lost souls.
remember waking up to shakily pray but nobody answered
my pleas except for my mother.

she asked why i was screaming.