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Haunted
I live with a ghost
That's what I expected
after moving in here
Knowing he died in the bathtub
I envision his eyes
over me overseeing
every move
He's buried
but I don't let him rest in peace
Every time bending to the bathroom sink
I quickly look to the mirror
expecting to catch
his face behind my shoulder
screaming as the skin weeps
from the bones
continuing on
as if his death never finalised
Like the hole
in the middle of the carpet
where he sat for eight years
rotting away
He didn't care
when the water boiled over
giving the ceiling its continuous downfall
He didn't bother and no one cared
Locked in all day
except for his daily pub crawl
Now they only bring up his name
when mentioning his most memorable act
his death
In the timeworn tub
he lay down for the last time
laid out pale blue
Yellow tile sickened
The water got cold
Routine movements stopped
Four days later,
neighbours questioned each other
and got the cops to break in
allowing the smell of rotting organs
to be freed from the room
Do I live with a ghost
or an expectation?
Nighlty, my mind moulds
the dark into shapes
No one answers back
but I conjure up scenes
in a tension to forsee
what I want to believe
The only ghost here
me
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