top of page

haunt me, then
By Isabella Nesheiwat


for all of them

"May you not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you - haunt me, then!"

                                                                          - Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

Half asleep, a whisper reached me,

So light I almost missed it 

Against the creaking

And moaning

And groaning of the wind.

It was you - your voice.

Calling my name.

I turned to face you, and no one was there.

Just the grayish darkness of 2am, 

And an echo of you I wish I could still feel.


Sometimes I forget you're gone.

Sometimes the thought that you are gone 

paralyzes me until I cannot do anything except remember.

I don't want you to be gone anymore.

I want you to be here, with me, alive and present.

But if you're still out there, somewhere between here and gone - stay.

If you're still out there, please - haunt me.

I don't care what you do, how often you do it, or how much it scares me.

I have a feeling that I will know somehow that it's you doing it.

You can stand at the foot of my bed, still and quiet, doing absolutely nothing besides stare at me - and I'll sleep peacefully, knowing you're watching over me.

You can hide in my closet and cause sweaters with those little hanger threads somehow fall off their hangers - and I'll know it's you trying to tell me I'm right here.

You can pile all my kitchen chairs on top of my kitchen table while I'm running errands, and when I come home and see it, I'll know it's you trying to redecorate, remembering how you always used to hate the layout of my kitchen.

I don't care what it is. 

If you're still out there.



Haunt me.

bottom of page