At your death I was a ghost,
lying next to your body, I tried not to choke.
The suffocation of words I didn't say left me tired and broke.
I wanted to lay in the morgue and
f
  a
    l
      l
asleep with you there,
next to your blue glass eyes and brown curly hair.

The parting gift you left for me-- a dialogue in my head,
your ghost screams at me at night, I’m never alone in my bed.
A chorus of morphine alarms and IV drips silence me; and they sing my songs for you instead.