and he is everywhere on the walls,
no one can see it but me.
like a ghost that haunts,
only sensed when my heart breaks
and I breathe deeper.
you write any poems that aren’t for him?
they ask and i just cackle.
you think I write for him? i sneer
i write for me.
i write because i have to.
i write so that one day, i can purge him
so he can haunt only some photo i’ve forgotten to delete
like an exorcism through poetry.
What a miracle, they’ll say.