to the invisible stranger in my bathroom

where were you

when i opened my

pepto bismol-colored

padded

library?

you told me

you’d be

around

for a while

but that

wasn’t really true

was it?

i look for you

sometimes

in the black

balls

that morph

blobishly

on my body-blood

when i stare

at the light bulb

in my desk lamp

too long

but even there

in my

self-inflicted

burnt-black

world

you somehow

always stand

right

behind me

breathing

loud

but never saying

anything

)
    a poem every sunday

    Written by

    here’s something