Like faint smoke in the air,

your memory lingers,

the stale cigarettes from last night’s party,

the sad remnant of a

night nearly forgotten.

Sometimes your skeleton emerges full blown from

my closet, scaring the

bejeebers out of me. Sometimes your

ghost lays in wait in my bed and

holds me in his arms till I am asleep.

Sometimes I go whole days at a time free of you.

I would put stars on those days but it

would defeat the purpose.

I am thinking about building a cocoon,

lining it with soft oblivion,

perfuming the air with forgetfulness.

I will lay quietly and reinvent myself,

burst my bonds when I am free.

by Cher Bibler