This bed is overrun
By you and me
And the ghost of she
Slithering between sheets
Turning steam to ice
Vapor cooling clean
But I blink and she’s gone
This sometime paramour
This consequential sigh
An uncomfortable reminder
Of how close we came to ruin.

At night we toss and turn
Sweat soaked and sobbing
Impressions left at midnight
With the spinning of the moon
And dreams no true compass
To bring us back to two
This threesome overwhelming
In its vapid solidity
It squeezes out my breath
Like I’m drowned by air
And pillows, and silken hair.

I recall her high cheekbones
Dusted with powder and spice
The way she turned away
When I’d finally caught up
And I shouldn’t have wanted her
Not the way I was. Not then
But she turned me inside out
Like a shirt out on the line
Waiting for the sun to rise
High enough to warm my soul
And melt these wings of wax.

This bed is overrun
By shadows and white lies
By startlingly open eyes
Turned to face the wall
Taught to build compartments
To keep out the driving rain
To lock these spirits up again
Where they can cause no further pain
But that’s the merest fantasy
All paper thin like sheets
Sliding you away from me

Leaving only the ghost of she
And being drowned by air.


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