How I remember you/ How you are.

There is a painting in my room,

Propped up on my dresser,

Of a women in old fashioned clothes.

She wears a black hat with a rose pinned to it

To keep her wavy knotted locks in place.

Her skin is pale.

Too pale to be considered living.

Her eyes are melted chocolate,

Soft and warm.

In the daylight she looks over the room,

taking in every detail.

At night, she haunts me.

Watching me through the darkness,

Entering my dreams.

 

That's when I see the real her.

She is dressed in highwaisted jeans and a sweater.

Her hair is flowing in the breeze,

Loosening the curl in it.

Her face is filled with life,

sun kissed on a comfortable summer day.

But her eyes are what shocks me.

Still like melted chocolate but there's happiness in them.

She hugs me as if she has to.

As if it's been years.

She whispers "I miss you but you'll be okay. I'm here"

Over and over as I feel a tear land on my shoulder.

She's crying and she's happy.

Who is she?

Why does she miss me?

How has it been years?

 

That's when it hits me.

That's when I wake up.

It has been years,

Eighteen to be exact.

And yet I can still feel her hair on my face,

hear her voice in my ear,

But I can't see her.

 

No, I'll never see her.

There is a painting in my room,

Propped up on my dresser,

Of a woman in old fashioned clothes.

Her name is Denise and she's beautiful.

I painted her two years ago.

She is my ghost.