Painted Hand

 It is quite possibly the longest 

and simultaneously the shortest relationship 

I can ever have. 

I first considered you to be a harder commitment, 

something that required years of and years of effort and thought

to even start feeling content. 

But now, 

two months in

I can't see my life without you. 

My left hand is finally painted, 

decorated the way I dreamed 

and I'm not feeling even a shred of remorse. 

Sometimes I look at my hand, 

and I can no longer picture a point in time

where there were no stars present 

on my night sky. 

I want a sibling, 

but there's some trepidation 

maybe I won't be as satisfied as I am now. 

I should quit while I'm ahead 

but then I think about 

how I feel trapped in my own body,

how these little modifications help me feel a little less 

trapped. 

and I'm okay with going under the needle 

again. 

City of Ghosts

Somedays I'm fine.
Somedays.

Somedays I walk slower.
Somedays.

Somedays I see the ghosts on the street,
somedays I walk past the shadows without care.
And somedays,
I can't even think.

The ghosts of the past,
Shadows of my inadequacies,
reminding me of my failures.
The voices that called me perfect,
but I couldn't see the signs.
It was my job to keep you together,
but I failed.

"Just cross the street,
keep your eyes on the crosswalk sign."

But I turned.
I met your gaze.

You turned away from your walking shame.

Yes, I saw you, 
but I also caught a glimpse of all the ghosts you carry.
One face reminds me of them all.

All my ghosts, no longer demons.
Demons come out at night,
but ghosts can exist in the day.

A simple haunting I wish to be rid of.
Somedays I can't even hear the creaking footsteps
in the attic of my mind.
I'm ignoring the whispers,
walking past the moving shadows.

But somedays, I stop dead in my tracks.
I feel the icy breath,
I hear the giggles,
I feel the pokes and prods of a ghostly presence.

I see your shadows.
Savannah is a haunted city after all.