Through a window
I see a wisp,
a phantom at which I can only gaze

My window,
Barred,
I desire which I had lost.

The ghost whispered;
I heard him,
but he was intangible

He sees me,
I hear his cries of agony
but I ignored his pleas

i lost him,
only for being
that in which i was.

Why had i run,
(to become who i am now)
yet i attempted to continue my rampage?

ignorant,
childish am i
for want of the lost.

the phantom watching me through the window,
laughed as i gnawed at the hole in my heart,
oblivious to the crimson sea around me

i sit and ponder.
what became of me,
when i ‘set him free”?

foolish am i
for want of the
improbable tale.

i cry behind walls
that conceal my truth,
but my phantom has always known.

abused, used,
thrown away was he,
by the ones he held so dear.

she fears his contempt,
and of failing to successfully communicate
her tangled thoughts.

has she opened Pandora’s box?