Empty Beds

Written by Kristian Foster

Empty beds are no place for ghosts.
Love is a weight that crushes, yet with a broken spine
I still stand tall.

Hell on my nerves.

I shake in the face of gentle things promised by my childhood.
Even as a boy I knew I’d find you here.

A place shrouded in borrowed memory,
I begged for a future that would know it to be true.

Things the sea has led me to believe.
Time sends us dancing into the ocean.

We’ll need each forged reverie to keep us afloat
But still my darling
I fear this boat sinking.

Because you know as I do that hollow things will take on water, and it’s not far to the bottom.

Here there are ghosts that wander with outstretched hands for a pound of flesh to please the truth.

Here we’ll to decide to oblige them

or simply seduce them back to bed.

Photo by Annie Spratt

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