Ghost in my bedsheets

Sunflowers facing the ground,

you ripped them out of my heart.

Ignoring the roots, I thought they were strong.

I thought I wasn’t weak , I must have been wrong.

My skin craves yours,

you played me using the right chords.

I patiently listened to every tone,

betrayal apparent in your cologne.

You hand me a band aid

to fix the enormous damage made.

And when I scoff and walk away,

why is the world once again grey?

I see a ghost in my bed,

I regret we met.

I see him but he’s somewhere else.

I feel him in all my cells.

A knock on the door,

my body answers, what for?

Dressed up from head to toe.

Why is it so hard to say no?

Sunflowers pretty and new,

at this moment I thought I knew.

You came to give them back,

you send shivers down my neck.

Attacking my body piece by piece,

studying every little crease.

The ghost’s in my bedsheets,

I feel no real heart beats.

Sunflowers on the table dying

Why do we keep trying?

Once again, it’s time to walk away,

and not sell the pain, but pay.

But roots were lying, this was never ours.

You were never holding yellow flowers.

I see the cactus waiting to harm my skin,

you put fingers on my chin.

Yours bow wasn’t worn, it was carried.

My imagination destroys the ‘just got married’.

It’s best if you leave and take your ghost with you.

You’re ruining my mirror view.

Photo by Debby Hudson on Unsplash