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.