You-Me

I feel you there

Just behind my eyes

Behind the long-since modified smile the world sees

I no longer wear a mask

Yet I know

I know

That the me I was before

The me that has yet to live

Still lives a ghostly life within

I get glimpses when I look

With the right sight

The way a child sees playmates

Where others do not

Other times you are gone

Do you leave me

Or do I leave you

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt 2016: ghost

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Four Star Blues

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, absolutely,” she said with a tinny, manufactured brightness as she cleared away the strangely-soiled sheets from the bathroom floor while a portly couple in hotel bathrobes sat at the table on the terrace, eating what looked to have been a whole roast chicken, making sounds that made her uncomfortable as she worked.

As soon as she could, she got herself out of the room, cursing for the umpteenth time having to do this job.

Once on the other side of the door, she sighed with relief, looking forward to the end of her shift and the bottle of wine awaiting her at home.

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Post: pleasure

Passages

It had been fucking abrupt.

She’d come home to the apartment they shared to find he’d moved himself out while she was at work. At work, working at the restaurant – his restaurant.

It was a shock. Strange to feel the ghosts of his things. For half of the life of their home to be gone, just like that.

It almost felt like the floor tilted in places – like a strange funhouse – where only her stuff remained, as if the weight of her things had warped the balance of the room.

She walked around, numb, dazed, picking up an odd hanger or empty CD case, watching dust bunnies scatter as she passed through the rooms.

The only remaining evidence of his presence were two flat unused cardboard boxes, $1.87 in change, and a few crumpled receipts.

Later that night, after the shock had worn off and reality had set in, she used the cardboard boxes as a makeshift bed. (The thought of sleeping in their bedroom was unbearable. Plus, she’d drunk the better part of a bottle of Red Label and the distance seemed insurmountable in the moment.)

It would be a month, after she’d moved out herself, after she found a new place, after a friend loaned her a blow-up bed, until she slept off the floor again.

(There’s nowhere left to fall if you are already on the floor.)

Inspired by The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt: abrupt

Night Manager

Drains the last of the bottle

Looking out into the blue-black bruise of night

No trains coming through ’til morning

In a blackout he meets his own dark soul

But he won’t remember it in the morning

He listens with Jack Daniels’ ears

For something, for anything

He watches the static of the old tv

Waiting for God to speak to him again

And just before he passes out

He has an epiphany, which is then lost

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: static