“You need to leave.”
But I know you aren’t going on my volition.
I take heavy comfort that you are going to
visit me at my most vulnerable.  I have
learned simple adjustments, acceptance of
your spirit as part of this temporary, erratic
existence.  Everywhere I turn, you will be.

I have learned to deal with this.

I admit, it gets frustrating.  I wouldn’t know
that it was your face that gazes upon me if
it wasn’t so burned into my retinas.  You are
just inches out of focus, a world vainly viewed
through the plastic lens of a disposable camera.  

I ask you what you want, why you relentlessly
haunt the places I rest my worn, weary body.

I receive a forced, fractured smile in return.  

Some nights, I get a real reply, screaming
silence shot into a shredded cerebral cortex.
You say that we will be merged in this place.
Trust me, I’ll be waiting.