Many people are haunted by their memories.
I think I'm haunting mine.
Broken and dark, I follow my black heart
to the scenes of so many
happy times.

I go to these empty places
and marvel at how time
can change such scenes.

I went to the place of sweet
kisses by a warm fire,
where you pulled me close
and cradled me in your arms.
Where we slept together
in an old worn-out tent.

I sat on the dirt ground,
felt the grass with my fingertips,
and thought of what we used to be.
I cradled myself and tried not to cry.

In these memories I hold
there is now a ghost of a girl,
standing in the distance
with tears in her eyes.

-M. Spear