Ghosts of my past, like looking at old photographs.
Ghosts of who I used to be
And who I could have been.
Ghost of a person I will never become.
I see the ghosts of the places I came from
And the ones where I belong.
Ghosts of the wars I’ve waged around me
And against myself.
Ghosts of the things I’ve said and done
Wishing I could take some back.
Ghosts of the things I couldn’t say
Wishing I had found the courage to speak them into existence.
I see the ghosts of a life I dreamed up, like a film strip.
Ghosts of a life that will never be mine.
Ghosts of all the people I’ve loved,
Ghosts of all the somewheres my finger tips have touched.
Ghost comparable to sand.
Ghosts like grains of time
Slipping through the cracks of my hands
Blowing away with the wind that moves me.
I should have known I couldn’t hold on to this collection.
Clinging to all these things that used to be.
Just lingering in my past lives.
Ghosts of the should have been, would have beens.
Ghosts of what could have been
And the ghosts of what was.
Ghosts of all the things I’ve searched for, and never found.
Ghosts of all the things i did find, but lost again.
Ghosts of the life that I created, but never lived.
Ghosts of the lives I did live that were not my own.
All I see are ghosts.
Even still nothing haunts me like the tethering of you
Hayy