I see you in my dreams every full moon,
Your eyes black, hair dark, skin golden,
Lifting out a hand for me to take.
I see your smile but know it's illusion,
Dismissing your needs for affection,
Waving you away with a flourish.
You refuse to leave, remain to haunt
This house like a ghost, but never silent--
Every night in my ear, a whisper of your regrets.
And within my dream, I dream
And fantasize about taking a guitar string
From my guitar that you said you'd fix.
I walk up behind you as you stare
At our beautiful reflection in the mirror,
And pull that silver string around your neck.
But ghosts can walk free,
Those invisible people who inflict scores of pain,
Memories too much for one to bear
Yet I feel nothing.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:15 PM UTC
I see you in my dreams every full moon,
Your eyes black, hair dark, skin golden,
Lifting out a hand for me to take.
I see your smile but know it's illusion,
Dismissing your needs for affection,
Waving you away with a flourish.
You refuse to leave, remain to haunt
This house like a ghost, but never silent--
Every night in my ear, a whisper of your regrets.
And within my dream, I dream
And fantasize about taking a guitar string
From my guitar that you said you'd fix.
I walk up behind you as you stare
At our beautiful reflection in the mirror,
And pull that silver string around your neck.
But ghosts can walk free,
Those invisible people who inflict scores of pain,
Memories too much for one to bear
Yet I feel nothing.
