The Undead

Your ghost came in and tried to dance with me tonight.

I spent the day painting a new picture.

I was just beginning to imagine the specter of the next

And then there you were

Standing there on my kitchen floor

And the only thing I could do

Was fall to the ground

And whisper

“I miss you.”

Fingers stained in reds and blues and pinks.

Eyes smeared with black

The ice forming in the refrigerator

Reminds me I wish you were a better man 

And the quiet rhythm of the pulse on my wrist

Reminds me you were good enough, for a long time

I can’t see my own blood pulsing through my veins

Without yearning to be close to the sound

Of your heart

Beating in your chest

The Metronome Of My Life

I thought.

But now I’m here on the kitchen floor.

And you’ve already risen to walk out the door.

Staying just long enough

To make me remember

The man I thought you were.