Ghost Story

A poem.

There's a ghost that stands
in the corner of my bedroom.
Not to haunt me. 
Just to watch me sleep. 

He follows me down the aisles
of the grocery store, not caring
what we have for dinner as long
as it's not chicken again. 

He sits next to me in the car,
and always lets me pick the music. 

If he ever floats away, or light
shines from his inner being
and absorbs him, I'll evaporate
into thin air. 

Photo by Tandem X Visuals on Unsplash