Bodies line the room
eyes on you. Looking,
waiting. The ghosts of
the past waiting for you.
Writer in San Francisco, CA

She claws her way out
of hell, Cerberus howling
breeze warms frigid air
Young buds stretch for blossoming
birds fluttering in the trees
Bodies line the room
eyes on you. Looking,
waiting. The ghosts of
the past waiting for you.