i have a monster under my bed

he feeds off my nightmares and fears

he’s a good guy

has a wife and kids my failures are paying to go through college

he knows my every truth

my every hidden wish

we don’t make eye contact very much

i had a monster in the closet but he moved out as the skeletons began to stack

he said i am an emotional hoarder

i didn’t argue

just added his disappointment to the feast

some nights

as sleep begins to settle

but before the dreams take hold

i feel a clawed hand gently pat my foot as it hangs precariously close to the edge

reassuring me it will most likely not be okay

the monster under my bed is a good it

better at being a person than i am for sure

he always wakes me before it gets too intense

whispers to me when the words will not

critiques my ideas

and laughs at my jokes

he never judges

or calls me out for not really looking for the her that doesn’t exist

reassures me it is okay to love a figment

he messes with me like that

but he said something the other night that got to me

what if he is the person

and i’m the monster above the bed

neither of us could answer

not convincingly anyway