Ghostly.

Ghostly.

Objects move by themselves

Doors are open

And then closed.

A cup appears

The coffee hot and strong,

You are sure

It was just there

But when you reach out

It has gone,

With nothing but a ring

Left as a stain,

On the bedside table.

The bed is remade

Or was it ever slept in.

A toothbrush moved,

A broken heart on the mirror,

Etched in steam.

Who did that?

Crumbs in the kitchen

Crunch underfoot,

Walking on tiptoe,

Hoping for silence,

Slipping between

Dust motes,

Barely disturbing

The fractured air,

Afraid of the fall out.

There is always

The distant mumbling,

Shadows that are

Sometimes familiar.

Are they real?

Urgent whispers

Laughter and pain

What can it all mean?

The haunt of memory

Come back again.

The sun rises and falls.

It fasts forward

On freeze frame,

The moon, an interpreter

For the blackout,

Shedding light into the abyss,

Where not even

The dark matters.

Faint stars, move away,

Crash back.

Heavy thick air,

Moving in waves.

A rip tide with

Aftershocks

That buffet from all sides,

Tearing you apart,

Bit by bit.

Until you realise

You have already disappeared

And if there is a ghost

In this house,

It is you.