You keep calling yourself a haunted house—ghosts in your body, cemeteries in the yard and the bedroom. You tell me to listen to those who say I should run, to not ring your doorbell on a dare.

But I’m not here to prove I’m brave, or to take a peek at the haunting. I’m not curious, I’m not here for the ride—I’m here because I want to be. When I ask about your bad days, it’s not a dare. I genuinely want to know, even if I’ll never fully understand what it’s like to walk in your shoes. I just want you to know you don’t have to sit alone, suffocated by phantoms.

I know my love won’t fix you—and you don’t need fixing. I may not always make things better, but I’ll still be here, holding your hand when things get scary.

And if you think your ghosts will drive me away, you’re wrong. I’ll look them straight in the eye and say, “Make room—I’m not leaving the place I chose to call home.” ❤️

©️ Beatriz Esmer