speakeasied nights haunt us like
the ghosts we conjured through your
old ouija board that we balanced between
the space that separated us and I remember
I thought if we were any closer to one
another I might as well die happy and
you could summon me instead with the
planchette underneath your trembling
fingertips as you cry above your head
begging, begging, begging for me
to "just come back"
and I would try my hardest to come
into contact with your silky smooth flesh
just to see if you would think it were me,
but instead I ended up trembling
underneath your fingertips as you
raised your hand to the heavens as I was
begging, begging, begging for you
to "just relax"