personal elegies

i am haunted by
the ghost of the woman i
could never become

and i’m the one who
killed her i smothered her and
left her gasping for

air underneath these
sheets i lie upon each night
but there is no blood

and no evidence
of a struggle her body
rots between the cracks

in my ribcage where
i hold her prisoner no
funeral no good

bye just my silent
mourning i wear black in the
bags under my eyes

from where she keeps me
up at night you see my hands
are also her hands

maybe this is why
everyone i touch remains
unmoved maybe this

is why everything
i write becomes elegy
in memoriam

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