Alone

Alone in a room full of memories,

chained to a bed that oppresses you.

You are still inside that armour as white as salt,

as soft as tickled by the sea.

Your hair is like crows taking flight,

frightened over a scarecrow in the shadow.

Your hands are like spiders,

rigid in their attack position.

Your eyes, a water mirror,

seem to recognise my reflection.

Your mouth is sealed;

no sound is allowed to escape.

Alone in a room full of sorrow,

chained to a casket that doesn't belong to you.

There is no time to cry;

you are already outside,

out of a house to enter another.

The same cold place, but with a different name.

Someone will come to visit you every week,

but you are gone, never to be back.

Alone in a room full of ashes.