I keep a ghost who shares my rooms,
she nests in cracks, in dust, in fumes.
She dims the lamps, she chill the floor,
and waits for me by every door.
Her breath is rot and faded rose,
a sour scnet the night bestows.
I feel her near the silvered glass,
her touch arrives as shadows pass.
She dines with me on borowed heat,
her hunger spare, her mouth descreet.
She tastes the pulse beneath my skin,
and waits to see if I give in.
At night she draws me from my rest,
lies heavy where no flesh is pressed.
The bed recalls the weight it knew,
the sheets remember what we do.
She dances close, then thins from sight,
returns when rooms forgets the light.
I sleep half-held, half-given rot,
a lover claimed by what is not.
Jan 2
Jan 2, 2026 at 2:19 PM UTC
I keep a ghost who shares my rooms,
she nests in cracks, in dust, in fumes.
She dims the lamps, she chill the floor,
and waits for me by every door.
Her breath is rot and faded rose,
a sour scnet the night bestows.
I feel her near the silvered glass,
her touch arrives as shadows pass.
She dines with me on borowed heat,
her hunger spare, her mouth descreet.
She tastes the pulse beneath my skin,
and waits to see if I give in.
At night she draws me from my rest,
lies heavy where no flesh is pressed.
The bed recalls the weight it knew,
the sheets remember what we do.
She dances close, then thins from sight,
returns when rooms forgets the light.
I sleep half-held, half-given rot,
a lover claimed by what is not.
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