The Ghost of You

 A version of our life togethersits in a framein our daughter’s room,smiling back at her while she sleeps --these two peoplerole playing a perfect scenein some foreign Spanish filmwhose protagonistturned into the antagonistin later years.Tucking her in,I stare at those two strangers,the ghost of youtransparentwith the secrets of lifetimesyou participatedwith so many others.The interpretation of meis of cellophanecovering rubbish.That young woman has been buriedwith the ex-composition of youthat so eloquently seems to smileback from the glass,encased in the lack of understandingfor her needs.You haunt memories,escaping the emotionswith your Houdini actsthat left only a versionof the apparitionwe thought was you.