Email Poem

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I live alone.
I thought it was strange. 
The man.
Although,
The middle of the night.
Can be a strange time. 

He sleeps uncomfortably. 
He is a living yet ethereal person.
Shh…
There’s someone sleeping. 
Someone, but not me. 

I made my bed that morning, but now it is undone. 
I fell asleep on the rug. 
I tossed and turned and howled.
We’re all tired in the morning. 

I got up to go to work. 
Dropping a coffee mug, losing my left shoe. 
Throwing a pillow against the wall because I’m late. 
I wanted to throw the pillow at him. 
I hate that he doesn’t have a job. 
He has nothing. 

He’s like a ghost, except he dies over and over. 
He becomes more cozy as winter goes on and the heat is on. 
I live alone. 
I had made a promise. 
That if my house was haunted I would move. 
We all make weird promises. 
Thinking it will never happen.

The middle of the night can be a strange time. 
I would sleepwalk and make bacon and eggs. 
The man in the corner of my room is tall. 
I live alone. 
I live alone. 

I wake up every day. 
He doesn’t even sway. 
When I throw my coffee mug at him. 
Not in anger, but on a whim. 
Mostly, I am nonchalant. 
I am alive, what else could I want?
Sure, it would be nice to live alone.
But then who would answer my phone?
Sure, I’m the one who goes to the office. 
But he gives me the best advice. 
I don’t know which one of us is more alive. 
We work together but neither of us thrive. 
Goodnight, my friend, try to get some rest. 
I passed out on the floor, trying my best. 

I live alone. 
He does too.

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