Oct 2018
BECOMING THE GHOST
Your death has made
a ghost of me.
I wander through a world
no longer mine.
I have lost the me
I used to be.
Reality flickers
in the candlelight
and goes out.
A someone I
don't know
left in my place
a changeling who
claims my self.
The stranger in the mirror
gazing out at me
with my own eyes
that look and do not
...see.
Your death has made
a ghost of me.
Your death has made
a ghost of me.
I wander through a world
no longer mine.
I have lost the me
I used to be.
Reality flickers
in the candlelight
and goes out.
A someone I
don't know
left in my place
a changeling who
claims my self.
The stranger in the mirror
gazing out at me
with my own eyes
that look and do not
...see.
Your death has made
a ghost of me.
***
This is yet another of my four 0'clock in the morning poems when I awake to the fact that he has died and there is only the darkness and me....his death is still such an immense impossibility that I still can't believe in it. I miss him so much and will go on missing him for how ever long my forever is. There is no comfort to be had. I want one thing and one thing only and that is.... him back! They say time heals but I think Time is a heel who has no intention of helping....I miss him more each day. I awake and cry and cry out his name. I keep on writing the same poem running around in circles chasing my own grief.I keep on throwing words upon it to soak up the pain but that doesn't work and his death is a stain upon my universe.
This is yet another of my four 0'clock in the morning poems when I awake to the fact that he has died and there is only the darkness and me....his death is still such an immense impossibility that I still can't believe in it. I miss him so much and will go on missing him for how ever long my forever is. There is no comfort to be had. I want one thing and one thing only and that is.... him back! They say time heals but I think Time is a heel who has no intention of helping....I miss him more each day. I awake and cry and cry out his name. I keep on writing the same poem running around in circles chasing my own grief.I keep on throwing words upon it to soak up the pain but that doesn't work and his death is a stain upon my universe.
(Guildford)
Please log in to view and add comments on poems
