Poetry: Ghost by Niki Perez

Ghost

 

It feels like menopause

when a face burns red

two weeks straight. You bleed

into armpits rejecting

Secret and Old Spice.

After all, divorces suck.

 

Those masks are potent,

like that sweet smell you sniff

when stressed the fuck out.

And we fuck out. Truth is,

honest is a breed

rare as those swiftly adulting.

 

Their words of advice

end with cuss hard,

because a timid voice

sounds stronger when

bullshit exits early.

So let’s make it transferable:

 

remember that time

she sobbed on the floor;

you stepped over her

like you’d avoid a puddle.

And just like that, a female dog,

gracefully bit off—

 

your whole existence.

Niki Perez is a mom, a commercial real estate guru, and a word slayer. She makes no apologies for being an alpha female, though her sword fighting skills need practice. Once, Niki was an owl of literature and creating writing at FAU. You might find her pen in Lavender Bones, From One Line vol. 2, and Bullshit Lit Mag, among others.