Poem #4

I’ve seen ghosts.

Felt people fall away.

Fingers turned to bones, falling slow.

Decomposing in months gone by.

And coffee stains, just like this did.

Let me capture one last picture, before we say things we’ll eventually forget.

False promises so stunning, I marvel at the way I used to stand on those words.

And you’d veil yourself behind chords and bridges, the blues never sounded so beautiful, on a park bench under the luminescence of a street lamp.

So even the gods couldn’t console me once you were out of sight.

Echoes of the way you filled my nights.

And I scream.

Silent helpless words.

Loss of my life.

Grief breaks and bends,

stealing my soul as it ends.

But I’ll still leave a candle if you want to come back.

Dig the grave and dance in the cemetery once more.