Wraith

I am tired
But I am awake.

We’ve been through worse.
More cliches to settle in discourse.

The window, left open for you to sneak in,
arouse the dead outside in the night air.
Climb in bed and pretend you never left.

Still, here I am. Awake.

Alone.

The eerie sound of angels too lazy to carry me into dreamland.

Longest breath from me to you.
Across the room.
Sleep til daybreak
The wraiths at night wait.
3 a.m., I feel it

Daybreak and its ugliness.
In contempt.

The room comes alive.

Phantasm

Spectral made real, minutes creep.
Every corner alive, the room casts shadows, deafening

You can hide away here

Thin veil, from the windowsill to the sky
Moon smirks through glass, unloading lonely thoughts
Parched lips, from sleepless nights, spiders weaving in silent stitches
The shadows danced, came alive, what was

What will never be

Phantasm, retreat under covers,
safety in blindness, veiled in silence.
Fretting they will never leave
until the light wakes you.
Scared to breathe

Haven

I must maintain freshness past my expiration date.
I must retaliate… when no one is looking.

There is my face, and protective gear to keep me safe.
Safe from myself.

I must give up the ghost.
I must walk away from shell shock and splatter.

This is but a taste, of a life, of love–of laughter.
This body, my home,
a tender heart that has not expired.