All of this distance collapses my heart,

turns my hands cold because I can’t seem to 

forget you  no matter how hard I try. 

© Megan Tyler 


The demon in my chest

Your ghost keeps good company

in the mouth of late December,

with or without it’s clamping,

snapping teeth.

Icicles freeze to his

umbrella eyelashes.

Chew the pieces of me

Break me down and

Set fire to everything I know.

Every thing that

I was and am today.

A simple blackness

A simple life, tortured.

It thrives and smiles upon

the rotting of you and me,

On the calm it creates craze.

Your ghost keeps good company

lets me know that I will never suffer alone.

familiar strangers

This room is sanitized with

psychiatrists and nurse therapists

Sad teenagers and their

parents sit like broken glass dolls.

Opening binders

flipping pages and greeting one another

with a friendly smile, with a

how are you

with uncomfortable small talk

There is Purple and blue silence

packed in the bags under my eyes

I let the tears on my cheek dry as you

push the box of kleenex across the table


look behind

you now

there is

nothing but an

empty street

of moving tires

and sudden

stops and stop lights

starring you

in the eye

three times

look back three

times and i swear there

is something,

someone following me.

straight ahead

i look where

street lights

faintly light up

the sides of sad

buildings in distress

bodies are

stepping slowly

into a stilled night

of a photograph

plastered on my wall.


tipped over

winds of worry,


the tides are

heavy punches

practicing their

karate moves

on my stomach

look behind

nothing there

except the shadow

made from me.