A Ghost of You (Writing in Progress)

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Lately,

I wish to send postcards

with pictures of every view I walked

or trudged through, captioned

“Wish you were here” in big cursive

letters.

 

Lately,

I’ve been catching you in the washroom,

cracking the door to peek at my progress.

You’ve been sleepwalking, creeping,

leaving creaks on the weak spots under

our soles.

 

Lately,

I’ve been bumping into you.

I hear you speak in men who dole

out your wisdom and stories, being

overprotective for my own sake,

and picking up from where you left.

 

Lately,

I’ve been drinking and it tastes like

when you sipped from a glass.

Unlike you, I’ve been careful; you’ve

been telling when to stop and I listen

because you never had the mentor.

 

I’ve even started to hear your distant

snores from another room.

Lately.

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