Empty spaces Jan 21, 2015

I keep seeing her poised in her window, the deserted room behind her, filled only with the echo of who was once there, but no longer, gazing out, at church or moon, or the late night empty streets of a city she knows all too well, thriving on that man who she used to see, coming up the walk, heavy footsteps on the stairs, a vision as misty as a mirage, a sound so empty it would not even stir the mice, she without anyone to tell her desperate secrets to, she must tell them to herself, nobody else is there to listen, only the echoes of empty footsteps and visions of ghost on the street, none real, none there to rescue her so she sits and stares and waits

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