I’m feeling a bit tenuous and rather spectral today, so here’s a very special piece from way back…a couple of months ago. I’m much closer to calling this one a finished product than several of my other poems, so that must mean I’m fairly proud, right? It’s more cohesive, I think. And I believe I actually managed to express a complete thought with this one. It was inspired by “The Ghost Factory” by Iain S. Thomas which is a much better poem than this one. Perhaps you should read it instead. No? Well, you’ve been warned.

Here goes:



By Me

There’s a cold room in your house full of ghosts
The knob on the door’s always warm
I know you need to visit the past from time to time
To whisper tear-stained sonnets beneath your boozy breath
To the cold pillow her body left behind, but
One day
This will be easier
One day you won’t need to do this
You won’t have to inventory your ghosts
To make sure they’re still there
Haunting you
Haunting me

Stop trying to dress me in your dead wife’s clothes
I’m not her; She’s not me
And I can’t keep paying for her mistakes

I’m still here  
Look at me

I’m still here 
With icy hands 
Wrapped ‘round my neck

I’m still here
Don’t let them kill me

I’m still here  
I don’t want to become 
One of your ghosts  

I’m still…

There’s a cold room in your house full of ghosts 
The knob on the door’s always warm 
I hope you’ll visit me from time to time 

 I’m still here

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