Small Ghost

by Trista Mateer

strange all the things you forget about when you can’t find the scars to prove they happened anymore

makes things so people know she’s still here she makes things so she knows she’s still here

can’t remember when she started digging her own grave but now she can’t stop hovering over it

she’s tired of letting the things she doesn’t forgive herself for pile up like leaves in the autumn you know it gets to a point where you can rake and rake and rake but the leaves just keep coming down