Secret Ingredients
Nightmare
lost in the mirror-
the only light comes from the
crack in my teacup
–
face splitting grins-
each gaping mouth
another door
Broom
an old red broomstick
the paint worn through to the wood
from countless fingers
–
deep in the attic-
sweeping out
forgotten dirt
Transience
stoic in the sun-
sand awaiting ruin from
the approaching tide
–
tenuous footprints-
a shimmering surf
over amber sands
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