Chelsea Meyer is an artist and writer living in upstate New York. She spends her time exploring fictional worlds and making neat stuff. You can find her at 
www.chelseameyer.blogspot.com.

1 Poem by Chelsea Meyer

One Who Haunts


Maybe I was meant to be a ghost,
one who observes, one who walks
from room to room, endlessly.
Stick me in a corner and I’ll
be content to stay there,
lock me in a closet, I’ll make
friends with the scratches on the wall,
bring me nothing but stories and
secrets, and I’ll eat for a lifetime.
I’ll wrap myself up in a sheet,
introduce myself to your friends,
smile my empty, black smile,
and I’ll never be lonely again.


Give me today, tomorrow and
the next day after that, and I’ll wrap them
up in a pretty, red bow, I’ll tangle them
together and step on the box, so you can’t
tell the difference between them.
My shadow will hang behind me,
like a long, long cloak or a wedding dress.
I’ll tip-toe around your senses,
I’ll put on my favorite shows,
You can watch me wash the dishes,
watch me drag a pen across paper,
then crumple it up on the floor.


My fingers will skip through your
most prized possessions,
telling me of your past and of your future.
You will shout me into silence,
test me with your wonder and amusement,
yell poems into my ears as a threat,
you’ll try and again to get rid of me,
but you’ll never make me go away.
Take me and place me in a box,
where I’ll stay only ‘till I get bored, then
I’ll crawl out on my hands and knees,
you’ll curse at me and cry,
and I’ll watch like one who observes,
I’ll tease you and taunt you and haunt you,
so you never forget what I can do,
never forget what I am capable of,
as one who walks from room to room, endlessly.


Stab me with pins, spray me with poison,
lie to me in your prayers,
rip me from the ceiling, from the walls,
from the furniture, cover my skin in dust,
bring me a therapist, bring me a priest,
try to bring me back to my senses,
push me to the edge and shove me over,
tie me up in ropes and swing me across the sky,
in your endless attempts to defuse me.


I’ll smile my empty, black smile,
swallow the river you thought you could drown me in,
I’ll wear the crosses you hang by the doors,
I’ll bathe in your holiest of waters,
I’ll flood the bathroom so we can go swimming together,
the water looks muddy, are you feeling okay?
I can feed you soup if you close your eyes,
and let me hold the spoon,
my whispers will fill your dreams,
my fingers will braid your soft, brown hair,
I’ll tuck you in next to me at night,
and we can pretend to fall asleep together,
I’ll show you lovely, precious things,
and you will give me all your sins.


Don’t be mad at me when I
break all the locks on the closets,
when I fill all the corners with moss.
I won’t hide in the sheets if you let me
play with your friends next time they come over,
I won’t mess with any of your things,
I’ll stop touching the faucet knobs,
I’ll watch you watch
whatever shows you want,
and we’ll never be lonely again because
maybe we were meant to be ghosts,
ones who linger, ones who move from
person to person, endlessly,
greeting you at the front door,
Welcome home.