Home Alone

There is a heavy silence following every single one of my slow steps as I spend some time alone with my thoughts. Each moment carries the weight of a quiet dance of silence and shadows, muted and diluted in this intimate solitude. I fearlessly dissect fading memories, archives of dread and sorrow in shades of blue and grey. Sometimes, I feel like an old broken piano: out of tune yet still played by strangers just for the sake of amusement. My ramblings keep me company in this harboured retreat and that's comforting. It doesn't even matter if it's dawn or dusk. Meanwhile, I let my nails, now perinwinkle coloured, dry.