The Other in the Room

Some nights you wake up,

positive that the one you love

is sitting in the dark beside

you as a ghost. You never

turn to look though and so

they’ve never died.


He asked,

once, if you believed always

that the ghosts of the living

would come for you. You tried,

hard, not to nod.


You like thinking about being

in love more than you liked

your lover. He had nice

hands, though. You reason that,

sometimes, that is enough.


She asked,

maybe twice, if you were afraid

of the living dead, those

zombies coming back. You

shook your head.


You almost always want

to turn, to see the one you love,

though in dreams he never

lives. You wake up often

to the ghost beside you

weeping. One of you

is weeping.


You answered,

just the one time,

that you’d never fear

something you’d been for

so long.

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