NaPoWriMo, Day Sixteen, Poem Sixteen

Something in the tretina form. Weird one tonight. Hopefully, I'll hit a better streak by the end of this week.


Poem

You go to the other side of your bed,
make sheet angels to represent old girlfriends.
Tonight, though, they're all there at once. They talk,

but not with you. The way they talk
as if you were never even in the bed,
forgetting it was you who evoked your friends

in the first place. They make new friends
with each other. This is a fantasy you never talked
yourself into, your exes sharing secrets in your bed.

Even your bed makes friends with the ghosts you're afraid to talk with.