There are ghosts in the walls

CW: This piece contains domestic and sexual abuse themes*


No one can see them, so it seems,

but they are there nonetheless.

Echoes of that time you went too far,

threw me against the door, hand

at my throat and whispered

in my ear how much you loved me. 

Yes, there are ghosts here.

They swim in the bedsheets

where I held myself still, waiting

for morning to break through the window

so I could wake myself up 

from the nightmares I kept having

when my eyes were wide open.

They walk in the corridors

where I scrubbed the floor

three times, because the first two

I didn’t do it properly, and

it wasn’t clean enough for you.

Third time’s the charm.

Sometimes they talk to me,

remind me of things that make

my skin shiver, like that time

you covered me with your weight

bourbon on your breath and 

hatred in your eyes, a look

burnt into my mind forever.

Yes, there are ghosts here,

and there are days where
I am one of them.