Conversations with Ghosts

I used to hear stories
from the next room
about who
was visiting who.

I used to hear stories
about people
who weren't there at all
But they were
dashing
from room to room.

In a hurry
to get nowhere,
for the rest of forever.

And she only told me about them
after we moved.

She told me about the men
in the corner of the bedroom.

And how they would watch her sleep.
And how they would watch her fold laundry.

She would tell me this,
as my goosebumps
fed on my flesh
in a house,
that was safe
from Chestnut Street.

She told me about the little girl
in the pretty dress,
who had the ribbons in her hair.

She told me how that little girl
would run from room to room
slamming doors.

She lied.
And told me that she had been doing it
for almost a decade,
and not the girl.

It wasn't until
I was a preteen
that I was able
to point out something
strange
that I had experienced.

Something that had kept me up all night,
and sent me screaming from the master bedroom.

That was when she told me.

"It looks like they love you too."

I've been having conversations with ghosts
ever since.
--

~Torres