He had gone away years before. Away, as in not there, not where Miranda was, not around when she needed him—or someone, anyone—to be in her corner.
She feels it beating at its cage like desperate fists pounding inside a coffin that’s been closed too soon, buried too soon.
Outside someone else’s window the neighbour’s wife
. . .
I whisper my confessions to the lake that holds my secrets.
I’m fading away
Camouflaged into the background
Even as the world is fearing