Lately, I’ve been reading your stories
been softly directed over bridges
and through long corridors.
Trapped for the night,
the walls of the Red Room
are hidden in darkness,
we reach for the match
again and again.
I want to stretch my arms
out over the veil.

Lately, I’ve been reading your stories.
They come to me on darkened streets,
invite me to dance and become lost under their spells.
Ghosts, I implore you,
step into my story,
and together we will tell it,