haunted

Photo by Ye Jinghan on Unsplash

people say that ghosts aren’t real, but they’re wrong.

i mean, they’re right.

there are no house-obsessed spirits
bemoaning purgatory,

no nightgown-clad apparitions seeking revenge,

no screaming specters accidentally unleashed
by a mumbling teen in too much eyeliner.

but there are storms of guilt that follow us in lockstep.

there are shadows offering miracles
for the price of a freshly opened wrist.

there is your silent, suffering memory —
freezing,
starving
furious.

watching me from the other end of the couch.

If you read this far, please give me a follow or enjoy another poem!