I’ve got a ghost in the closet
and your name is written on it.
Lingers is the shame in holding on.
I still set two plates out for dinner,
like grief might make me thinner.
Now I’ll chew on my regret until it’s gone.
I sip my coffee black again.
The bitterness, a friend
that sticks around when sweetness can’t belong.
You haunt the sleeves in all my sweaters.
Each passing moment— a love letter
signed, sealed, delivered,
then withdrawn.
Aug 20, 2025
Aug 20, 2025 at 2:56 PM UTC
I’ve got a ghost in the closet
and your name is written on it.
Lingers is the shame in holding on.
I still set two plates out for dinner,
like grief might make me thinner.
Now I’ll chew on my regret until it’s gone.
I sip my coffee black again.
The bitterness, a friend
that sticks around when sweetness can’t belong.
You haunt the sleeves in all my sweaters.
Each passing moment— a love letter
signed, sealed, delivered,
then withdrawn.
Dead weight
