audience of ghosts

closed doors pull me behind
to whisper nothing sweet on
the pillow where we talk
and yell and lie about our
truths and the consequences

why do we go there when we
know that it all leads back to
bed, where our shrieks turn
into cries of passion, can’t
we skip the agony and go
straight to the euphoria

there is no progress without
pain, that is the truth when
it comes to us, the more
abuse you subject me to,
the more I am driven to
be judged deserving of your
affection, so we go on stage
every night to perform this
great drama before an
audience of ghosts bringing
accolades only you can hear

— GB