Dimly Lit

The fan spins in a dimly lit room.

A single bulb underneath illuminates the room.

I sit in a corner, leaning against the wall.

It provides comfort that no one is behind me.

I look in the corner.

I feel something looking back.

As the fan spins the shadows figure disappears.

Only in the shadows does it live.

In my darkness, it exists.

I reach for the glass of whiskey next to me.

As I raise the glass I can smell the alcohol, it bites my lips as I drink.

In the shadows I see him looking at me.

My sins, my mistakes, me who died a while ago.

Who died in a foreign land.

To come home I buried him there.

At my weakest, he gains his strengths.

I fight with myself to never let him out.

Push him back to the shadows.

Leave him buried in the past.

I sit in a dimly lit room, looking into a dark corner looking at the shadows of myself I lost a long time ago.

In the past is where I try to keep them, but the past has a way of coming back around.

Day #13 SJD

Copyright © 2018 Segundo Juan Devora. All Rights Reserved






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