The Unwilling Ghost of Your Ex-Lover

I do not linger in your room at 4 am on purpose.I wish you could sleep through the nightWithout the lamp of my eyesPiercing through your mind.I wish you could sleep in your bedWithout tingles along your spine. But my ghost can’t leave. When we fell in love, our souls recognized each otherLike a squirrel

Newspaper Clippings

Newspaper clippings in your mind of things you would rather forget. You’d prefer to live with ghosts than with these words of shame. A ghost’s empty, feathery mist may be made of cold sorrow But the edges contain the final remnants of happier times. Newspapers are made of ash. Their success depends on burning hatred.