Ghosted
Loved, something that I was. It was something that somebody was to me. Until we drifted. Well, until she killed me. She held me tight, I didn't see the dagger slip from her sleeve. I thought I was loved, but I was wrongly mistaken. So now I watch, from the hallway windows, waiting for the creaking stairs.
I watch her sleep, her untroubled face curling into her hair. I try desperately to warn every guy what is coming. Yet, sooner or later they join me. They watch along with me. One hides from the tubs water, one is screaming. I always beg him to be quiet, but he isn't. One refuses to eat, scared of what is in the food. One won't go into the room, and one refuses to watch anything.
We once knew our names, but what are they? We've lost them through the passage. Every time there's another one we try to call them something. I keep on feeling an ache in my stomach, it's always bleeding but what can I do? How can I fix it?
I peer through the walls, watching her. I can't remember her name. I can't hear what she's saying. How long has it been? How long has she been walking the halls with me? How long ago did her ghost kill me? Why is this house always out for blood lust?
When My Good Friend, Sorrow, Comes For Tea.
When Sorrow comes to visit, he doesn’t take off his shoes. Dragging and tracking mud from outside to every room in the house. He doesn't even pretend to wipe his feet at the welcome mat before entering. With each visit, his clothes become shabbier and his hands filthier. He always announces and apologizes that he can’t stay for long, he has others to visit. I always suggest water, but he prefers tea. Taking longer to prepare and prolonging his stay. We always listen to Etta while the tea is being made. I’m not ever sure when he’ll leave, some visits are more extended than others. No matter how long the stay, you can always tell he was here. The longer he stays, the more dirt and mud build up on the floor. The more smudges and streaks upon the wall. Even long after he’s gone and I’ve polished the floorboards and purified the walls, there’s still stains that he left behind. Forget-me-nots proving he was once here. Before he goes, he'll turn to me and say I should be grateful I’ve only got to scrub mud from the floors and trail a rag against the walls. If he were to take off his shoes, it would be far more mess to clean.
Miss me
I want you to miss me like your chest has been ripped open
Like you’re so distracted you can’t function
Like I am your every thought of your day
Like you have heartburn
Like you can’t sleep till 5am but still wake up expecting to see me there
Like you see me in shadows and on the edge of your blind spot when you drive
Like the sight of roads we walked makes you want to wipe them from existence, no, frame them
Like you want to be so busy you forget me
Like you want to stare out the window seeing my face where you should see the sky,
Hear my voice where you should hear the breeze
Like you’re cursing time for being so short when we were together, and so long now that we are apart
Like you don’t want to talk to anyone because it would tear your thoughts from me
Like a message from me gives you the same relief as finding an air cave 20000 feet under the sea
I want you to miss me like I’m missing you