A crystal looking glass fed with ghosts

Reflecting an image that hurts to see

Faraway glances piercing the light

Leaving waves of dark that bite at me

Gasoline torches and crosses of wood

Brought to exorcise the eyelet lace

Yellowing and faded as figures stood

Mouths with multiple tongues speak

Demanding a life half lived, half me

Eyes full of poison swirling purple and bleak

Beckoning fingers sprawling like trees

All disappear if I just close eyes, don’t look

Images appear closer than… stop looking

At the ghosts you created years long past

6 thoughts on “GHOSTS OF ME

  1. Mr. Poe said,
    “The past is a pebble in my shoe.”
    and, so it is too
    as Faulkner said
    “never dead not even past”
    as we strive forward
    its ghosts follow
    hovering and beckoning
    just at the edge of vision
    carrying beauties
    and darkness

    Liked by 3 people

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