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

Christie Beckwith

Christie is an author, poet, and freelance editor at Meraki Press. More importantly, she is a sparkle girlie and an excessive consumer of Dunkin's coffee. You can find her at open mics and all over the US, where she travels for her day job doing Alzheimer’s research. She wants to live everywhere she visits, but is always happy to return to Massachusetts, where she loves her three boys, the cat, and their two dogs.

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Giselle, Third Act