Ghosts

Sometimes it hurts to smile.
Salt water smears glitter faintly down my cheeks.
And no one sees,
Except the ghost that lives in my house.

Sometimes it’s nice to not be alone.
Curled up in a ball shuddering from a cold that doesn’t go away.
At least someone else knows,
Even if it’s just the ghost that lives in my house.

Sometimes I hate my glass twin.
Standing there with my face, and none of my thoughts.
But at least I have one,
Unlike the ghost that lives in my house.

Sometimes I want to leave.
I want to be selfish and let go of everything that hurts.
Because maybe it would be easier.
To be just another ghost that lives in my house.

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