When "the ghosts" come moaning to me, I shan't let them through the gate.

Weird little poem I edited from an old bit of poetry I did years ago.

I'd like you to know that

The girl who stares

The one who gapes

The one with a twitch

Was not me.

It was her.

And she'll stay in the house

And read like a good girl

While you go a-roaming

And she'll never complain

And she'll even love you, if she can.

Even if the packet-blue sky

Tumbled, turned to ashes,

Crushed the earth in death

She'd stay and she'd gape.

Because I am not her

Will you still remember me?

As the sky begins bruising

You return to the house, stinking

Baby asleep.

She's curled up beside it

And she's dreaming about you.

Alone, you cannot come to any harm.

Though you are capable of

Everything, except hurting her

I hate you

For her sake.

Reviews

[deeps]

This is powerful and deep, i like this write.

[livspen]

This is more about the way one can become a ghost of one's former self than literal ghosts but it's open to interpretation, of course.

[mope]

This has a lot to ponder over

Ghosts are much maligned, but it is we that haunt them.

[cad]

Deep...you're going to have to explain it to me when I'm not so shattered, but I love it!