Spider webs decorate the lawns of my neighbors, spooky
lights burning in the windows and doors.
I hear the rattle of Bones and realize they are mine,
clacking with each step to remind me just where the path of mine ends, each
year passing since that year when she went away, stepped out of the world I
exist in, as fleet as a ghost and nearly as terrible
She changed, too, a past she cannot escape, each link making
the weight of her existence too much to bear alone, so claiming she let people
down, she says, the bringer of bad luck, the soul not good enough, when none of
it is true, time proving her Worthy, I think, thought I know so little of her
afterlife she has lead since
I hear only the rattle of my bones
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