Pinky promise

 

To any finger pointing at me in this world
I promise to relive the ghost of dust. It’s piling up. Unnoticed.

I promise to label myself. Movables.
Furniture scratching the floor.
The memories of a language I used to like,
But I never experienced it. I drank alone
With eyes watching me.
Unmoving. Uninterested. Destabilizing quietness of mind.

I rejected competitive invitations every day. Without a friend.
I turned my inside out. But it’s not seen. Thankfully or not.

The joy of being one and only in one world or many.
Silent.

Maybe I’ll invite a child. As darkness is coming near.

By Karinna Alves Gulias