Empty Silence

As I look back on the day I see a heart crushed, I see mistakes made and words that were said in anger. Why do things such as these have to happen? As the wind howls and makes the windows rattle tonight I feel empty inside. I don’t know what to do- what to believe anymore. Is all that I've loved just a dream? I know I've said it before, and I know I’ll say it again. I have no words tonight.

Sleepless Ghosts

Here in the deep silence I lay, the darkness envelopes me and all I hear is the faint ticking of the pocket watch laying on my armoire. The moon is new tonight, and the sky is dark and void of stars. I have a nagging feeling that I should be disturbed at this silence, but it only lulls my heart into a deeper sleep. But deep inside my soul trembles. My eyes were half shut in dreamless sleep when I thought I heard a sound, a high-pitched squeak of the loose floorboard outside my bedroom door. And a flicker of candlelight shown between the cracks; like fingers reaching out to grasp. The object shifted it's weight and slowly tried the door handle, but it was locked, and the key was upon on my bosom. My heart thudded in my chest and my eyes were wide, the sleep chased away by terror. Then I heard a peculiar sound; it twas a scratching at the door, like of long fingernails. It reminded me of a grotesque article I had read of the horror of our sanitariums and asylums. Heavy breathing and guttural moans escaped from the lips of the intruder. By this point my heart was no longer beating, but frozen. I longed to wake up from this dream, this nightmare and fantasma of terrors- but alas, it was no dream, but reality. A cold sweat had broken out on my forehead, and my fingers clawed into my own flesh. Why did this black ghost torment me so? And was it only to put a knife to my throat?

Silver Pool of Light

2AM. Maybe I should be sad that my Valentine’s Day was uneventfully lonely, but for once I’m content. For once the thought doesn't cross my mind.
There is an ethereal glow shining into my bedroom from the old-fashioned picture window. It’s a pure gift- it’s snow.
I’m shivering, but I’m not cold. My stomach is growling, but I’m not hungry. I’m smiling but I’m not particularly happy. What does it all mean?
There is so much to do, so much I haven’t done. But what does it matter. I really don’t care anymore.
But I’m glad the snow is falling. Even if it doesn't last.