The Ghost in My Bed

by L. Monique

I can tell by the way you wet your lips then turn to me and whisper, "I don't know," that again you are somewhere else. Last night you came home, dripping wet, a midnight run in the rain you said, the remnants of your whereabouts drifting down some alleyway and into a filthy drain. If I hadn't been standing at the window staring out into the darkness and seen the rain myself, I might be compelled to question. But as it stands, I've waited too long to ask questions, I've been too complacent to demand a change. Instead, I ran you a hot bath - the water was the exact temperature you like, told you to take off those wet clothes and then I wandered into the kitchen to make hot tea. I just couldn't forgive myself if you caught a cold.

6S

L. Monique, author of Cadillac Knockin', is the author of a book of poetry entitled The Swallow Project: A Guide to Consuming Obsession. All that other fascinating stuff can be found at www.LMonique.com, or at her blog.