I commit a haunting in my skin,
A possession – but I do not possess myself in your eyes,
Only in the ways that ghosts do, clinging,
Violent, restless, in the places that used to be theirs…
Sometime, somehow, my body became a stranger,
And yet still I linger, howling like the best ghosts do,
Too big for my heart, too small for my woman,
I walk through walls now and try to convince myself I belong there.
Except, to you, we were never ours,
Possessed – witch, demon, to steal myself back into my arms
When I should have been a prize
Each day I die, each day I rise again
I cannot be exorcised.
You will not get rid of me.