— Adam Donaldson Powell
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Echoes of a Stranger’s Ghost
“Why him?” he asked, his voice a quiet thread,
Not screaming, just exhausted by the weight.
He sat down on the edge of their small bed,
Staring ahead, resigning to their fate.
“I don’t know,” she sobbed, hands pressed against her face,
Tears slipping through her fingers to the floor.
“It wasn’t meant to happen… just a space
I let someone walk into through the door.”
“A stranger, Sarah,” he whispered, shaking his head,
Looking at the floorboards at his feet.
“Not even someone you knew, or loved instead—
Just a passing shadow off the street.”
“I was so lost,” she wept, her breath caught tight,
“It wasn’t about him, I swear it’s true.
I felt so hollow, so alone at night,
And for a second… I forgot myself. I forgot you.”
He let out a heavy, quiet sigh,
The sting of disappointment in his eyes.
“You didn’t come to me. You chose a lie.
And now there’s nothing left behind the sighs.”
“Please,” she choked out, reaching for his hand,
“I know I broke us. I know I made you bleed.”
He gently pulled away, unable to stand,
“You gave a stranger what I thought we’d keep.”
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