i don't make a habit of writing poems about ghostsMature

I don’t make a habit of writing poems about ghosts
but lately you’ve been haunting me
and I can’t seem to shake free.

Do you remember late nights,
the screaming fights
breaking through the darkness
and never crossing enough distance
to get through to you?

I remember the hollow sickness
that swallowed me whole every time
we hung up. I remember the
casual dance I got spun into
every time my heart shattered
but you had places to be.

You visit me late at night a few times every year,
appearing behind the face of a stranger
until I catch sight of you in my peripheral vision
and you vanish entirely.  You can’t face the mess
you turned me into, knowing that you’re the one
who put the steel in my fractured spine,
but you won’t let me forget.

The End

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