365 Poems/109 Alone for half a day (Rough First Draft)

Alone for half a day

You leave and tell me

not to forget to breathe,

and to put out the bins,

if I can manage it.

 

My lungs feel

as if they’ve been

packed with wet salt,

and I want you back

before the ghosts

stroke my shoulders.

 

They’ve been here

before, talking freely,

but I took out the bins,

fried an egg, turned up

the volume on the TV,

until they left.

 

But the noises they make

are getting louder.

 

When the door goes,

I walk towards you,

slower than I would

like too.

 

You need to believe

I’m getting better, that

I’m making progress

in my head.

 

That normality is just

around the corner,

where ghosts reside

only in books.

Advertisements