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There's so much I can do just to clear out the space,

I'm constantly cutting our ties,

Constantly turning over the broom in the closet - "Gosh, maybe these guests will leave soon but they always seem to overstay."

I sweep and I burn sacred smoke and I throw it all out the window, out the front door.  I shake out the welcome mat.  I make sure they're shut. 

Always closing the door, always turning the lock - sometimes I even change it... maybe it'll help to throw away the key. 

I clear out the fridge, toss all the expired.

I check the attic, where memories go to collect dust.

I look in my closet - no skeletons?  

I strip the bed, I wash my sheets, I place fresh ones on my mattress, I hide under the covers; I hide from you.  I keep a bat right next to my bed.  

Yet nothing prevents the way you seep through the cracks I've tried to fill, there's no method that could remove that stain, it just won't lift.  The ring of coffee still on the table—I wish you had used a coaster.  The faint scent of smoke still on the curtains.  

I realize now I need a whole new home, complete with a soft-cushioned couch and oil paintings on the wall.  I'll enjoy a nice backyard where flowers grow, I'll prepare meals in a well-stocked kitchen.  I'll set the table and adorn the counters, I'll wash my laundry on Sundays.  

Yes, I'll move out, I'll move on.  I'll wish you nothing but the best farewell...

I'm just hoping it's the house, and not myself, that's really haunted.