A Ghost in the Kitchen

I thought he saw me

I thought he saw the table, freshly laid out-

a meal so beautiful it was art.

I thought he saw me

standing there in my dress and apron

hair disheveled from stovetop heat.

Did he think I was beautiful?

Was he thanking the heavens for

finding a woman like me?

I couldn’t tell you, honestly.

His silence is loud and

I feel my petals falling-

dying off for lack of sunlight

on a fragile heart.