Horror Story by fallingwater123
Missed Connections in Baltimore
Phantasm
I remember…
the immensity of your explosive combustion.
You…
suspended there
vaporized
mid-air
I can feel your transitory exhalations…
settle on my neck…
vaguely
barely there
something in the air?
Your transparent haze catches my gaze…
…and I stop!
To combust.
We are all vapor.
Can’t you see?
Open your eyes.
You have three.
In the end… we all grasp at nothing.
Her Two Cents
Hair raising on the back of your neck, the sensation that someone is watching you, intuition rising in your gut; our surroundings may appear a certain way, but the vapors can tell another story if we tune in and listen. Where are you and what do you see? What is it you are grasping for today?
