Night One

So far gone,

with more work at my wrists,

with the ghosts barely at bay,

and with vomit on my breath,

I lie down and wonder

if you would still want to kiss me

now.

Ghost

I keep thinking about

my legs like dead branches,

pointed in the way they always are,

blood rushing from my body,

saying, “I’ve never felt so attractive,”

with the normal edge to my voice,

and the kiss that followed

when everything was okay again.

(it’s not anymore)