Casey Renee Kiser

His Ghost has a Fine Ass but I Still Won’t Let it Move Through Me…

Yeah, I may still feel a spark of a spark
of a spark on Valentine’s 
And I may let two fingers put on spiked heels
and go walkin’ downtown, 
to remind me the pain of Cupid’s arrow 
And just how long it takes to crawl back up
from the depths of Hell
Oh yeah, I may still see the shape 
of him dancin’ around me once a year
But that doesn’t mean

his fine ghost ass has permission 
to treat this construction site like his graveyard
The zone fee is a heavy one, better know, 
I’ll write that ticket

I’m a work is progress; my boo-ridden heart
stitched up nicely by the stars,
and he’s a lost soul who lives for the haunting
aspect of Life. We are too different

Of course, I know he’d have me back 
on the aloof loop of wandering aimlessly;
to be a side boo,
a peek-a-boo,
his sweet, sweet boo-berry icing 
on the cake he always has and eats too
But I already buried that cake

Only underworldly things still try to tell 
half-truths on a full moon,
so I had to put him in his place
And now,
I have day visions of colorful worms
that I sometimes mistake for his face