I hope that when I die my cat eats me

and I forget what it’s like to be whole.

And as I surrender to the mewing

of the thing that once saved me from myself

I’ll think of those who watched me live this life

and pray my exit is scored by someone

I’ve never met. I’ll close the doors I’ve kept

open and leave my house once and for all–

not worrying if I’ve left a bit of me.

I’ll float alongside all my ghosts, knowing

exactly where it is I am heading.

I’ll do all this thinking I am freer than

before, until familiar sounds send

me back down– something feline telling me

that I can’t leave quite yet, and just like that

I’m slingshot back into my damned vessel

for just another messy go-around.

All my ghosts, after all this time, do as

their name suggests and leave me to wonder

if I needed them more than they needed me.