The Stain

I might be unshackled,
but I still invite the ghosts.
The clock tells me
this is not my home.

I sleep on a strange pillow,
diving into blood-caked nightmares.
I wonder if
this is where you are.

The freeze-over
transports me like
an angel,
starved for revenge.

On the other end,
preparing to flee, but
not all sure.
Stuck in limbo.

This moment brings me
pastel morning dreams,
followed by vast
wisps of smoke.

I am forever
to be the stain.