πš†πš‘πš˜ π™·πš˜πš•πšπšœ πšπš‘πšŽ π™Άπš‘πš˜πšœπšπšœ π™°πšŒπšŒπš˜πšžπš—πšπšŠπš‹πš•πšŽ?

Who holds the ghosts  
accountable  
for the rooms  
they refuse  
to leave?  

They don’t pay rent.  
They don’t do dishes.  
They just stand  
in the hallway  
at 2am  
wearing the face  
of every word  
you never  
got to say.  

Who tells them  
you’re trespassing  
when they built  
the house  
from your  
unfinished sentences?  

Maybe haunting  
isn’t malice.  
Maybe it’s grief  
with nowhere  
to file  
the paperwork.  

So I don’t exorcise.  
I set out  
an extra chair.  
I pour  
two cups.  

If they’re staying,  
they’re going  
to witness  
me living.  

-𝕃ℝ πŸ–€ 

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