And then the concrete touched the sky
and God sighed. This is an invasion
of personal space. And then there were
ghosts in the spaces between us and
the ghosts spoke in languages we didn’t
comprehend, so we murdered them. We
called it an act of love. Their blood
spattered on our skin and even though
it was invisible, we saw it and it
haunted our dreams for months to come.
The world carried on with nonchalance.
Our night-mares turned us into monsters.
We fought off our words like soldiers
in a battlefield. We burnt all the bridges
that could take us home. We fell in love
with pain and with each other. But you
you changed me and then you left
but we’re both at the place where it
all started and I haven’t moved an inch
away from you. But you said
I don’t know what I want
but I wanted you and there’s so much
I’ve given up for a future I could
never see clearly and I know I know,
I know you need me with the same greed
that I need you with, but I’m tired of
asking and you’re tired of not knowing
and I just want to feel safe again.
The truth is, you’ll probably find me
at your door, bare and bearing a sword –
ready to fight off old monsters and new
ghosts – whenever you decide to call.
This is what shames me.
*Disclaimer: The title of this piece is a line from an Adam Clay poem.