Michelle Brooks † The Better Part of Yesterday

My heart is a deserted street in the middle of winter, dead leaves skittering in the dying afternoon light. I am a stop sign riddled with bullet holes, pinpricks of sunlight streaming through me. And you? You are everything – the light and shadow, the broken glass pane in which you can see everything. You are a street upon which I used to live, and I don’t need a house to haunt you.