Rusted, overgrown playground, in the hottest part of summer.
The shrine, an empty room, where no comes with their offering.
The dog barks, but the man walking it pays that no mind.
"It's just the ghosts, again." He thinks. "The ghost that are ripe."
-
The girl still feels the breath of unwanted gods in the hot air.
Spider webs glisten in the sunlight through high windows.
Sometimes, she feels like she's there in the world of lost spirits.
The heat deranges all care, and she must touch her own face.
-
The dog barks every evening when the man walks him.
The man ignores the barks, just walks on to the ends of the earth.
The heat cools as the sun falls, and the fireflies are lost spirits,
Their bright bellies trying to light the night to find home, again.
-
In the darkest and coldest part of the night, even as demons watch,
She sits on the corroded swings, and tries to swing so hard and high
That she escapes the Earth's gravity and flies away to the stars above.
The weight of gravity is the devil's hand that squeezes shut a heart.
-
The dog barks again; it is evening and the man has returned to her.
The girl imagines running to the dog, and him happily licking her face.
The man would walk with her back to her home, and to comfort for
B
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