You're a pale sliver
in the night now,
a wavering line of moonlight
and stardust,
lingering
in glassy fragments
atop the rumpled surface
of my old comforter.
I knew you once,
dark and lively,
with freckled skin
and messy hair;
you were a solid thing
that smiled too much
and tore chunks
from the carefully built walls
of those around you.
I wonder now,
who you are;
if you're anyone or anything at all
or perhaps just a pretty figment
of my over-active imagination.
I'm afraid to say
that you've grown too thin
your flesh stretched over sharp bones,
and nails cracked;
tiny tracts of thirsty earth
torn to bare bits
by nervous teeth
I know you won't stay long,
you never do;
only quiet, in-between moments
on nights like these
where our past rests
delicate and unspoken
on the floor between us,
glimmers of friendship
shared as saucer eyed children,
ignorant of the darkness
crouching beyond the chalked edges
of our doorsteps.
I'm not naive enough
to ask you what the money's for,
a slim stack of bills
drawn guilty from my pocket
and counted into slender, quaking hands
You're a pale sliver
in the night now,
just a bit dimmer
as you slip through my door
and back into the greedy hands
of the shadows
waiting
just beyond.
About the Creator
Teyana Jackson
An aspiring writer and poet currently living on the East Coast. More work can be found on allpoetry.com, thebluenib.com, and in the poetry anthologies "Circular Whispers" and "Seasonal Perspective"
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