I'm not coming

Ghost Town in Upper Peninsula, Michigan

You're here, again.

Boxed in cardboard.  Looking like you couldn't threaten me if you tried.

But I see your disguise. 

You hide behind labels.

Fragile. Kitchen Supplies. Bedroom. Old books.

But, you have an agenda.

You want to infiltrate my calm.

Disrupt my peace of mind.

I want nothing to do with you.

I've already felt your pain.

Too many times you've pushed me down, expecting an answer.

I'm tired of your demands.

Take your death-like hands off me.

This is my space.

I won't have you obscuring my life with your dark fog.

You stand like the Grim Reaper waiting for a train.

Take a look at your watch and set down your scythe.

Keep sighing as you listen for me to arrive.  I'm not coming.

Your passenger left the old baggage in the seat and stepped off.

Off, with a rag tied to the end of a stick, flung over my shoulder.

Skipping smoothly toward the light.

Elizabeth's Window Ledge in Apartment in Ukraine