Ghosts

The poem wrestles with the paradox of yearning for release, while fearing the loss of a part of themselves, revealing the heavy cost of freedom from a presence intertwined with their own.

Days on end, I spent talking to a ghost,

Hoping one day, it breathed again.

But ghosts are forever,

They haunt you and break you down,

Binding you to a forgotten moment in time.

 

You’ve crept beneath my skin now,

You’re a whisper in my head,

Steering my hands and heart.

 

Tethered to the past, I’m a version of you.

Let go of me, no matter how much I yearn,

Disappear into the night and do not return.

I’ll lose something in me,

If you set me free.

My freedom comes at a cost,

An essential part of my identity.