VIII. The Hollow Waltz

part of a poetry novella

They fed me silence from a spoon,
It tasted sweet, then turned to ash.
The night arrived at noon that June,
And stars fell upward in a flash.

I knocked on doors that breathed and blinked,
Their mouths were wide but spoke in steam.
The clocks were shattered, yet they ticked
Each second stitched into a scream.

A choir hummed beneath the floor,
Their voices stitched in velvet thread,
They sang of things I’d heard before
But only after I was dead.

I wore a crown of candle smoke,
It whispered lies that felt like truth,
And every time I dared to choke,
It sounded just like you.