Brooding, luxurious wall of darkness,

Loose fragments and infinite abysses crammed with isolation,

An illusion mimicking the echo of haunting thoughts,

9 PM,

a minty smell wavering over my just-brushed teeth,

fragile bubbles of soap curling on my fingertips and the sink,

10 PM,

curling up on the bed with a worn book,

swift locks of golden hair belonging to—

a girl once invisible that now has a place in this world,

guitar stained with teardrops,

that is worn out by playing her song.

golden fireworks blazing from the sky—