top of page
  • Anxious Poets Society

To forgive is to admit defeat

Do your ghosts promise to love you too? Mine write to me, their letters always signed fittingly. I know it’s a lie, yet still play the innocent child each time, following them down the hall to

the dark room with the swaying light. Their words are hushed whispers crawling up each and every hair on my neck until all stand at attention, the good little soldiers they are, readying to fire back.

My eyes will come down quick, fissures running out from each corner, as I’ll turn and face the empty hall, and force myself to look around, to find myself alone, then drag my soles back home.


Mikael was previously an acting major at NYU and is now working on a degree in game design at UTD. He has spent quite a bit of time moving from city to city, never really able to settle down and feel comfortable.

#ghosts #love #write #innocent #dark #eyes #alone #home

26 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

I. Your skin is wet paste sticking to a hospital wristband Under an empty wide gaze that sees nothing. Though I imagine how pretty you must look With your friends at the park, Lying on a picnic table,

blank paper sheets waiting to be filled on the study table, she picked her pen up every ink burst’s her spell word by word, she started weaving kingdom—her utopia. before her eyes, an ethereal scenery

More powerful than a locomotive, able to leap reality in a single bound, it’s a nuclear bomb, it’s a super computer: it’s the age-old strain of virulent addiction. Once in its ravenous and raptor claw

bottom of page