By Kate Garrett
Once more with feeling
I’m exactly where they expect
me to be, but hope I’m not.
Alone inside the glass at quarter
past midnight, I turn to the creaking of the door.
The others push her into darkness,
I hear giggles, gasps, see a torch burning cold.
I’m the bad news they wouldn’t want
for themselves, but don’t mind telling.
Inevitably, they call me Mary, Continue reading
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