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Nichole Johnson @nicholejohnson.bsky.social · 31/08/2026

#Poetry #Poem #Ballad

The Borrowing

There is a space above my head
I hadn’t seen before—
I got there through my stairwell,
Where I found a hidden door.

The ceilings graze horizons
I didn’t think to reach,
But the walls are edged in shadows
Where an icy echo creeps.

Inside are all the people
Whose time I fear I stole,
Dressed for some occasion
I was never meant to know.

They are frozen in a moment,
But are they trying to get out?
The way I see them tremble,
Like electricity’s around.

I seek another doorway,
Until my skin is slick as clay—
I turn back towards those faces,
But they’re now turned away.

The woman by the fire
Is now lying on the floor,
A man whose name I swallowed
Is standing by the door.

And is the room now larger,
And do the shadows grow?
And do I hear a ticking
That matches how they pulse?

Have they always been here,
In this space above my head?
Trying to take back what I’ve stolen
In this life I tried to live?

But then I feel the tremble—
As I know I’m not the host.
This space is not my attic,
It’s just where I keep my ghosts.