I have gotten used to invisible hands.
  They held my gaze, whispered to me.
Like a phantom lover, they mesmerized me.
It has only been a short time since they touched me,
And yet I am certain I can feel them now.
I do not want to—I do.

Soft steps approach me, whispering as they walk.
My fear burns my veins, chills my body. I try to flee, but I can’t.
  Wings like storm clouds surround me—upon me—and I am drowning.
  —Ah!—What is this pain lurking within?

You reach up, press your lips to mine.
  The pain is gone. I bleed no more.
—Only for a slight moment, does the cold embrace
Once more, leave me to cry.
On the ground,
—Alone with sad thoughts
I run for cover
Before someone sees me
—As I see you,
Staring from the dark
Your cold deathly stare
  Tangles my thoughts, blinds my eyes, blinds my eyes
While I lay here,
Slowly digging
A grave for my heart…
  —A perfect grave
Among shoes and ties.
Because you run.
From room 192.

Claudia Wysocky, a Polish poet based now in New York, is known for her ability to capture the beauty of life through rich descriptions in her writing. She firmly believes that art has the potential to inspire positive change. With over five years of experience in fiction writing, Claudia has had her poems published in local newspapers and magazines. For her, writing is an endless journey and a powerful source of motivation.