It’s far past
Just whispers,
a cracked voice in my chest
reminding me of choices,
of doors I slammed shut,
and windows I never dared to open.
But I don’t live there anymore.
I visit, like a ghost haunting itself,
learning from the ruins,
salvaging pieces of myself from ashes.
The far past tried to bury me,
Jixi Fox 🦊
Category: Poetry