Meathead Monologue

if i am draped in sheets you can't see me

in the bleachers you can feel the person across from you looking, dead panning and pale faced, as they beg for you back on their busted knees.
do not take them back.
in the coffee shop you love you can hear them whispering in your ear, raspy and jagged-like, as they beg for you back on their busted knees.
do not take them back.
they cannot win you back again,
with knees they accuse only you of busting
as they throw themselves away and down the stairs.
if you cannot be friends,
you cannot be lovers.
so that ghost across the room and next to your ear and in your bed and on your roof and in your car and near your bathtub and in you and in you and in you and in you and in you and in you and in you and-

that ghost is me.
that ghost is me.
that ghost is me under the pristine white sheets of your bed
and under the sturdy roof of your safe home,
i have crawled inside and i am not coming out.
i have gotten under your skin and i am building a home for the two of us.
i am not waiting for you to kiss me;
i will kiss you
i will kiss you!
and i will burn your bones in the new fireplace while i sing you one last lullaby
and we will be ghosts under the sheets
together.
from across the bleachers you sat in
i looked at you from under the sheets.
from under the sheets i whispered to you
in the coffee shop of your dreams.
under the sheets they can't see me,
they can't see me.
under the sheets i look at you,
because you are not just another ghost.

r.k.