The Day After Halloween

Another poem of questionable quality.

The ghosts crowd in around my bed.
“We’re still scary,” they say.
“Boo!” they say.
“Bet you’re afraid to sleep,” they say.

Here’s the thing,
I have Christmas shopping to do
And that Thanksgiving turkey isn’t going to crawl up on my counter, stuff itself with walnuts and bake itself for the right amount of time.
I already took the cobwebs down.
Don’t get me wrong.
They were nice.
For a time.
But, like the bat-shaped cookies I baked last week
They got stale.
And when I brought the Halloween lights down to the basement
The boards didn’t creak
The pipes didn’t moan
The shadows looked like shadows
Nothing more.

I’m not trying to be mean.
This is just how it goes.
And, while I know that you’re ghosts
And haunting is your thing
The holidays are kind of stressful.
You get it.
Too much food.
Oh, you were murdered on Christmas Eve?
Then you totally understand!
I mean, that sucks for you.

The thing is, my spine couldn’t tingle
Even if I wanted it to.
I’ve used up all my scares
And now I just want a peppermint latte with a gingerbread donut on the side.
So haunt me
If you must
I won’t be mad
You’re not doing anything wrong

Maybe next October
I’ll start screaming again
Hide trembling beneath the blankets
Afraid to get up and pee
Then wet the bed
Like I did last week

But tonight
I think I’ll sleep.

Thanks for reading! Sarah is a freelancer who exists on twitter and instagram and redbubble.

Engaged in inadvisable wordsmitheries and other creative acts.

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