I have nothing to say.
I sew my mouth with a string of grief.
It's a wicked and harsh winter.
I dwell under a shady tree in that ghostly forest.
I was guarded by the happy ghosts of my past.
The new rain was the only sweetheart that smoothes my skin, I breathe slowly, and I linger beyond, closing my eyes allowing the rainfall to comprehend my skin.
Earlier, love was my guest.
I use to hold a soul inside my cavity and a smile upon my face.
Now, I have nothing to say.