Ghost

the ghost of my child self rests inside of me and shakes me up so roughly that our memories fall out.

she doesn't fit in our body anymore, so she tumbles and rattles inside my ribcage and bumps and bruises against my muscles. she spends a lot of time near my heart and stomach and twists them up painfully when i think about her and what she's--we've--been through.

when she visits my brain, she possesses me: reaching for old joys and loves. a stuffed animal, an old blanket, a carton of crayons. when she possesses me, she forgets that some people are out of our lives. for better or for worse.

she lives in me and has nowhere else to go. one day, i too, will live inside the body of my older self: changed and different. aged and forgetful. i will share the space with my child self and inhabit our stomach. our heart. our head. like ghosts.