"Did it hurt? The darkness, did it hurt?

Yes.

What did it feel like?

A knife in my stomach. Every time I breathed, it only stung more.

Did you ever see the blood? Or was it just inside?

Yes. I saw it.

And?

It looked like my mother's smeared lipstick on nights my father didn't come home when he promised. Like a sky that was bleeding for its lost stars.

And in these poems, who are you talking to?

I don't know.

Except you do, don't you?

I'm dreaming of an elsewhere, if that's what you mean.

Do you have a name for your loneliness?

I gave it a face. Tired arms. Eyes that matched my mother's. My father's cold shoulders.

And the part of you that's ghost? Where did it come from?

It was born out of my bad days. I needed something to come back for me even if it was just to ruin me.

Do you remember what it was like before this?

There are parts of me that aren't heavy yet.

What's it like?

Springtime. Like all those days I was happy without even knowing it."

--Y.Z., "The Questions asked in a Dream"