Ghosts. A poem.

The house is empty now
But shadows whisper longingly
Faded images de-coupled
Waltzing to a memory

We walked here once
Now we are past tense
Conjoined in the dust mites
Holographic vestiges

The house breathes
In and out, submissive
Each breath synchronised
A myopic symphony

It remembers all too well
The agony and blame
Of souls sold to sadness
Anger, rage and pain


The skies give freely
And rain paints the grey
Metallic spectrum glistens
Tears on window panes

Long shall our ghosts walk here
Unfettered by these frames
Dwelling in forevermore
Long shall these ghosts remain


This poem came to me while I was on the loo (inspiring and a lttle gross). It’s a bit Poe-like, at times, I think. Wasn’t intentionally so.

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