Oh you were the best friend
there until the end, you said
I just didn’t know what you meant
was the end of your interest. I see
your ghost sometimes. He’s pale,
already fading, dismissed by you.
That’s why he still visits me.
Too soft to tell him to go away,
I listen while he whispers
at the foot of my bed
and my heart breaks
to see a soul in distress,
kicked out before death.
I know why I loved him.
He’s kind. Sometimes he runs
into a corner, curls into a ball.
Do you remember doing that?
You probably don’t or don’t want to.
Just like when he was flesh, I cry
for him, hold him in my head, say
“everything is going to be alright”
and it was, once, but not anymore,
so I pretend, yes I lie
because I want to believe it is true.