Haunting in an L.A. Hotel

This hotel is old, and it creaks at night.
There is a hole in the wall by the window
letting in a draft.
The L.A. air as tainted as my soul.

She says this place is haunted
and I believe her.
Sometimes the living are more haunting than the dead.

You should be here
you would love it in the morning light.
I can almost feel you next to me,
crumpling the sheets beside me
but you are miles away.

Her perfume lingers in the bathroom
alongside the ruffled towels
and cheap hotel soaps.
I can still taste her on my lips
and smell the absinthe.

There are so many things I long to say to you,
need to say to you,
but instead I whisper endlessly to empty walls and ghosts.
Sometimes it feels like I will never breathe again.

I never knew I needed you
until you left me alone,
abandoned me out in the cold with my heart in my hands in pieces.
I don't know how to live without you.
Feels like I never will.

She says this place is haunted
and I believe her.