My Ghost

Think you're just my ghost.
Leaving the faintest trace of touch that's really worlds away. Troubling the mind into a whispered silence.

So I burn the incense and say the earthly blessings, thinking that if all the beautiful rhymes would work this time - in all that soft-hue sweetness of morning --- that the tremor won't go up my spine.
You'll be lost in that receding fog - and I'll be free of the haunting.
Cause your dreams - I want them for you. Want you to have your ever after. Maybe I should be looking up to the stars with a distant smile, thinking something about them seems familiar to some warm, wonderful memory. And nothing more. Maybe?

But it all comes alive in the depths of too-dark-to-see. Feels like fluttering. The shadows dance across the maple headboard and disappear.
Waking up covered in sweat, swallowing hard - trying to breathe. Shoving the sheets off the bed entirely. But nothing's wrong! Just the tapping at the window of a little pine. Apparently it's making up hardships to feel like the old self.
So I start to laugh at myself lightly.
Hearing slowly the sound of night, in my place, all around - the soft putters of night,  the wind howling with such a force, --- so let it howl and shake me calm.
Haunted in the stuff of letters. Not an answer comes to the lips yet unkissed of this.
And still it keeps feeling so good.


/ / /
Sigh. Oh constellations - tell me which way you're leading the turnings of that ochre sliver moon out tonight. Devilish grin like at once known. I look up and say "touché" to him.
Saying this quiet happiness is all true as kept promises. Saying nothing's going nowhere. Shimmer with delight.
Thinking of that ghost of mine -- like when you swear a smell from childhood strolls past you in the dusk.

/ / /
And in the daylight afterall, it does always come so quick and tiring, --- maybe all the fables do fade. What's that I was trembling with fear of? Mind has a tendency to roll the seas onward at the sound of a voice.

/ / /
So! Douse me in mud and crushed flowers, cause all's anew. Can't deny, through all the lack of things to share -- the air keeps on smelling so sweet. The smiles so easy, the laughter so much fuller.
And that's all more than I could say in awhile.

So ghost of mine - keep haunting.
Feel the gush of words and cherish it. I'll keep looking for that Peter Pan in midnight, and calling it nothing.



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