Your memory reaches out with shaking hands. Writing burn poems on the front door of my rib cage like grafiti. You’re vandalizing my space again and you don’t even know it. Trespassing is your favorite crime and I think you do it well. This is my promise to haunt you without a grudge. Ignore every sign of me and you’ll stay stuck- squirming to get out of the suburbs. But you bought a house three streets over. Trepidation never knew you like I did. Questioning if it’ll all work out in your favor. Pulling strings like a puppet and all you had to do was follow along. Roll the dice and win the game- even if you’re a cheater. Your conscience starts to tremble. It’s wandering in my direction and I give it the middle finger. I’m not a grudge. I’m not a storm. I’m not closure. I’m the sentence that hitches in the back of your throat. I’m the pain in your chest whenever you pass Fox Hollow street. I’m the screaming streetlights. I’m the wind that sends shivers to your core. I’m the unraveling of all things made to last. I’m peace. -AMT©️