i still hear his screams of death from 33 years ago

i felt him in the gust of wind that squeezed through my window on this cold and lonely night

the curtains drifted like sails on a marooned ship giving no direction to the vessel but adrift amongst celestial bodies

i listened to his song and i closed my eyes and felt him in the room or he felt me in the room with him

his bullet-riddled body slung over my wooden chair

the pitter-patter of blood dripping reminded me of melting icicles dribbling on my window ledge

the creaking and moaning emanating from the rotten wooden legs of my chair stopped when his old dangling arms ceased from swinging back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back

shadows began to stalk me, i saw them, i saw them dancing all around me, gesturing me to chase them

the only way to have them disappear was to sit still in complete darkness, which i did after

shutting the blinds and pulling the black curtains over them

i cried and held the base of the chair that his body canvassed

as tears began to mix with the blood on the wooden floor

i heard him murmur once in my ear . . . . . . ."i love you"