Nicolezehn
When Friday Comes
When Friday comes and the living room is empty, shadows lurking in the streets, the lanterns casts a static, flickering light, as the world outside is fast asleep. The wind howls through the trees with no soul to play with, scratching branches against the glass like fingernails on a chalkboard, pier
When Friday comes
and the living room is empty,
curtains closed
the house falls quiet
as the world outside is fast asleep.
Streetlights cast a static, flickering light,
stretching shadows across the streets.
Silent windows stare like empty eyes,
while the wind howls through the trees
scratching at the glass,
…
grief
poem
·October 9, 2026