Ghost Poetry

I will be the ghost who dreams of you
until our eyes collide.
there is no map in my flesh, no doorways or windows.
no spurred heart or bruised throat when we touch.
the house where we lived is still standing.
everyone we know is there.
I bite into my tongue and say sorry
because you have already told them everything.
there is nothing you will remember
about my new bedroom
as you redress yourself
in my bones.
we sit down on the bed and speak
but you cannot hear me
and I cannot hear you.
I want to tell you what happened to me after,
what the blood and glass
was meant for. sometimes the night
makes you look like a stranger.