Poltergeist of my Heart
Dead Husband of my Childhood
Tomorrow I will tell our son once again how I loved you
Hoping somehow my telling him will soothe your raging Ghost.
He hides pictures of you in places where he thinks no one will find them
We all grieve in our own way
Each of us has an air pocket of guilt hidden away in the folds of our hearts
If you could just see him now, it would be like looking in a mirror!
The long fingers, the arrogant smirk
The slanted eyes watching the world in a paranoid fascination
It’s your loss, you asshole
You Dead Dead Man
He is beautiful
And you’re missing it.