The echo of my breathing from across the dark room
gives me the illusion I am not alone; my empty bed
mocks me as does the silence, where once was
laughter now salt streaks my face like dry
river beds in the desert of dreams
there are no more tears to cry
or wounds to heal
but only
stillness is
my shield while
I rebuild my strength
for life’s next battle in the
roadway with strangers who
would take your everything, your
life given the chance while posing as
friends in a gallery where all paintings face
the wall and no one knows each other’s names
who is to blame for this state of anonymity called progress…

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