The Guest Room

The day my curtains had lungs reminded me of
the time I suffocated next to those ugly stains
on the lavender carpet.

You know how much I hate sleeping
with the blinds open;
The stillness under night's cloak is unnerving.

It was such halfhearted sleep, tepid,
and with open eyes.
I saw none until the moon chimed four.

In the late-night, your shadow swept
across the guest room floor.
Perhaps I should have been more distressed.

But when, in my haziness, I felt your arms
slink around my sunken waist and
your breath brushed my bare shoulder...

Ghost or not,
we were enamored -
even I could catch forty winks.

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