long nights (pro)cured the protagonist’s echoes;
those hours when we were too afraid of dawn,
too afraid to count out the seconds
& let time run its course
intricate shells were cracked wide open
by yet another clumsy footfall
& a lopsided smile, jauntily misplaced
beneath the floorboards
our teenage dreams stayed
rubber-stamped & swept away,
our secret a tangible thing —
(or was it)
Another Wandering Soul 