Lizzy Burnam 🐞

Some days the ghost is quiet 
and I think the end will start. 
No rattling, no knocking 
from the chambers of my heart. 

I forget that I am haunted, 
abandoned long ago
with broken glass for eyeballs,
no shelter from the cold. 

He lurks in every shadow
and smothers me with dust. 
He blows out every candle,
and in the dark he hunts. 

Some days the ghost is quiet,
but the mirror always shows 
the secret I can’t lay to rest
and wish I didn’t know. 

I dream of having swept away
these spiderwebs of shame. 
Some days the ghost is quiet. 
I’m a wreckage all the same. 

Some days the ghost is quiet, 
but I know I’m not alone.