Until the world stops turning,
I am a ghost left to linger
at all of my haunts.

She tried to grab my hand
to pull me away,
but my skin was so see-through
her fingers grasped air.

Life is divided into lights and darks,
but I lost my shadow—
a pile of memories left to settle
is all that remains.

She tried to lay me to rest,
but my bones are so weary
they crumble to dust,
slipping through her memory.

Until the sun stops rising,
I am a specter, left to
wander on empty plains.