(Yes, it's a day late. I had nothing yesterday. And yes, the same title. My bad.)
The Circle (2)
The old, worn carpet,
color too thin for a name,
the sofa smelling of dogs long-gone
the recliner with creaky springs,
the vague smell of us.
The circle of us.
Truth or dare.
Both bad options.
Ugly laughter on the air.
The sense of smallness
of creatures with teeth in the corners,
teeth to rip and tear
in the sound of laughter.
The house in nowhere
with the yellow light
through a cracked lampshade,
lost in nothing.