ghost

On the couch, I shift my hands
as Francis tries to understand
these awful secrets spilling out
into the room with all the lamps

In the corner, there he stands
(but no one else can see him)
daring me to break my hands
so no one else can feel them

Time winds down and she stands up
as I begin to cry.
Tissues fight the dead in here
but she says I'll be fine.

A breath untangled in the breeze
spoke seven words of warning:
"Watch your back, the clouds will fall."

(My darling died that morning.)

I can't keep that bird now
The one that got away.
I can't kiss that star now
The one here in the gray.


^{poem ©2018 @paintingangels
photo by Nick Harris1 (creative commons)
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