smoke

The house is so cold.

Spectres dance in every corner.

They taunt me with their whispers-

their feelings.

They inject me with their icy words.

My breath is a fog that exposes them,

peeling back their black hoods.

They are not ghosts of the dead, 

but of the living.

And the things they say never leave, 

but hang in the air

 like permanent smoke, 

like ashes, 

like dark angels, 

shadowing my every move.

How can I escape them, 

when they are visible

only to me?

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

ELMER GANTRY IN THE MOVIE OF THE SAME NAME ASKS "HOW DO YOU THINK I WILL KNOW GOD WHEN I SEE HIM"? .THEN ANSWERS HIMSELF WITH A BOTTLE IN HAND " I WILL KNOW GOD BECAUSE I SEE THE DEVIL EVERYDAY IN THIS HELL I LIVE IN !

[Jasmine]

love it..the contrast between the icy shadows and burnt smoke. chilling and eerie. great job.

(p.s. thanks so much for reviewing my poems! :)

[the_stoic]

there you got the truth ... who fears unseen ghosts when we have monsters in the present ! this write had a chilling factor - nice one

[mind]

Now schizophrenia IS difficult, trust me on that. But I think you're fine. just don't listen to the voices, they're liars. Like when they told you to throw that book, that wasn't good. But other than that, this is a really nice poem. You used the word spectre, so you automatically get ten points.

[Alicante lullaby]

haunts...lydia..this one haunts.