This Poem is 5 Haikus in a Trench Coat
You take my napkin -
the numbers drawn in lipstick.
I’m hung up on you.
My first two digits
tipfinger your clavicle
“Be Mine” in morse code.
You leave me counting
dead bones in a closet, but
skeletons don’t cry.
Love’s dead confession
fades but not ours - your finger
prints the proof of life
Sticks and stones may break
my flesh but your unspoken
ghost still haunts my bed