As I sit across

from the ghost

who occupies the empty chair

I realize the emptiness

that we both do share.

But as a ghost you are free

but chained to this world

as we are chained

to these cages we admire.

but we sit

and write

and sing

and laugh

and love

all the things

that make us whole

but this ghost

is empty,

shallow,

gone.

He is waiting for me

to speak,

to compose,

to create,

to feel

something, anything.

But I cannot,

I will not.

But waiting is he

and I for him.

but then I see

this is not a chair

I sit across.

It is a mirror


And in it,



I see nothing.