She Holds Him At Night

She is there again,

Her long black hair hanging

Below her shoulders. She

Is watching him as she always does.

“Goodnight,” he says to her, to nothing.

“She isn't real, she isn't real...”

He tells himself. That's what

Everyone else says. “But,

She feels so real.” He thinks

As he fills his glass with vodka

Or scotch or whatever he thought

might drive her away. He knows

That she isn't physically real.

But she was to him, and that hurt.

She cries and starts to fade.

He crumbles and starts to die. So she comes back.

And for an hour or so she is real.

At least she is to him.