RDP Tuesday: FOG
The Mist from the beach
below my home
creeps over black jagged rocks and ocean bleached bones
on the nights, when the Moon is full
to my front door
it never knocks, it just walks in, besides the door is never locked.
It takes a seat at the dinner table
next to the fireplace that is always cold
no matter how bright the flames burning inside of it are.
It politely waits for me to appear and it always compliments
me on the settings and the food
even the wine, which I never drank when I was alive.
” Nothing for you tonight? ” the Mist asks me.
I look out the window, to the empty driveway, there isn’t a soul to be seen.
” It doesn’t look like it. ” I say sadly.