Smiling at the window.

Smiling at the window.


It’s the face in the window you never saw.

The white smiling lips and hollow eyes.

You have a way of pretending it wasn’t there.

Like a second thought,

a half hazard chance that it wasn’t reality.

Your subconsciounce is laughing at you.

It knows the truth and how much you won’t like it.

It’s beneath every blanket.

Behind every cupboard door.

In each dark corner of every dark room.

Beneath each floor.

In the mirror.

Below the sound of the dripping tap.

In every time you don’t know how to react.

Forgive my sins for yesterday I was your everything.

Whatever you’re believing I don’t know but passionless existance – that smiles at the window.


© G.P Williamson 2017


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