the ghosts in the attic
play melodies on the piano,
something about how
love will always end
in destruction, either in life
or after death.

they tell us stories of the
ocean, how she can carry a
ship yet slip through your fingers,
how she kisses the shores,
yet she's always in pull
to the moon.

the ghosts in the attic tell
us how your soul will always
be bound to the places that
harmed you the most, how you
will move through walls but
you'll always sink right back
to the stain on the carpet.

they tell you to learn how to be
good with your hands, to paint
the love you feel on every canvas
you touch, to carry a heart gently
but know to make a fist when needed.

they tell us how they lived and
died in agony, how they watch
the living do the same. how the cycle
repeats itself, how the ghosts
in the attic become us,
how we become them.