Ghost

Why does your ghost keep following me?
In the middle of the night,
I can hear her walking,
Steps that sound like thunder and lightning,
Put me into shock,
I’ve been made a hostage by a memory.

It crawls through my brain and ties my wires to its will,
It shapes my thoughts until they are small enough to slide down into my heart,
Then they plunge through my throat up to my tongue from time to time,
Your ghost makes sure I can only sing,
Of a time when you were mine.

Why does your ghost keep following me?

Its shape is in the clouds,
In the most clouded of shapes,
Vacant memories of the life I would have killed to be in,
Yet would have killed for a way to escape,
The dark pen of the rain carved your name into the docile cement,
It’s like God is sending painful memories from the heavens,
But precisely and what is most likely,
Is that your ghost is following me.

Why does your ghost keep following me?

In truth, sometimes your ghost appeared when you were right next to me,
A beautiful painting of what you used to me,
Without the bruises and the marks that later covered me and you,
I guess at that time I preferred your ghost to you.

That’s probably still the case too,
Ghosts are just false memories,
The past in a delicate perfume,
In an easily escapable rationalization,
A disease that paralyzes your mind,
Trickles down from my mind,
To my tongue and to my spine,
And now this ghost is a part of me,
A bunch of painful and false memories.

I don’t know if I miss you,
Or if I just miss your ghost,
The idea of you follows me,
Makes me alive yet comatose,
Sometimes it haunts me and sometimes it gives me hope,
But sometimes when I sit down at night,
I can hear your ghost talking to me,
And it’s a reminder,
That you’re nothing like this ghost,
That you exist only in my memory.

Oh memories,
They are the greatest thief,
They serve time….. serve sentences in your mind,
Writing false sentences and narratives in your mind,
Sentenced their for the rest of your lifetime,
Your regret and your mistakes,
Follow you like a ghost,
Until you realize,
That what you think of the past,
Is just a lie.

I realized that the other day,
Then your ghost stopped following me,
I watched it swim away,
And all that was left was the moment I was in,
I became a prisoner to it,
I’ll never let that ghost serve a sentence in my mind again.

And now your ghost isn’t following me.
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