I am a ghost.
For I exist but do not live.
We take these bodies as if some host,
That is not us; Not even close.

I continue moving through the waves of contempt, battering against my soul like waves against some ancient ship.

This old vessel is coming close to a breach; What it needs is to find some beach. The rough waters of life are tearing it apart, turning brilliant blue to as black as my heart.

Poisoning every drop that washes against the body of a man who cannot ever win. If he does nothing he will surely drown, but any effort will also bring those around down.

So this ghost haunts the vessel, and at least for a time, he watches the world slowly fade to black; as he exists in a life upon which he turned his back.

When I was but a shadow,
You saw through my disguise.
You saw my mind,
Looked past the blight,
You held me close,
Untied this rope,
And retied into a neat red bow:
Uniting mind, body and soul.

Vivid memories of you: just a word or phrase.
Hiding meaning like a yolk in an egg.
A "Hello kitten",
A cheeky laugh,
The brightest smile,
I miss our past.

You provide me kindling to burn through despair.
In my darkest moments, you become a torch to bear.
Under crushing weights, a Herculean belt.
Under bright stars, a sublime presence felt.
In my mind, a voice with no doubt.
In my soul, a light that never goes out.

You chipped the mask away at night,
And together we rebuilt the face inside.
You healed the wounds carved so deep;
You and I; Ever so softly.
But now you've left; You are so far gone.
Here I still sit: Half masked; Half wrong.

It's been nearly two years since the last night we spent..
A pitiful attempt that I can only lament,
As I recollect the frightful prospect...
That the last night in heaven was one spent acting undead.

I was a hollow, masked up fool,
Daunted by the very thought of you;
Onto autopilot I go; Drool;
Both from lack of thought,
And thoughts of you.

How do you do?
Is that too rude?
Why did you leave?
Is that too?

Answers swirl around and bake a mind
That can't make it up to temp in time,
And so half-way these thoughts would stay.
Until the day she finally had the gall to say,
The answer that I knew is fate:

But hate it all, just the same.