ghosts

 

in all the nothingness that we now are 

there are little pockets where we still exist in this world

cold spots that would send a chill down your spine

like there is another realm where we are still alive  

where we are still dancing through the halls of our new home with no knowledge of its inevitable dilapidation

sometimes i see glimpses of it

a floater in my vision or a trick of the light

like a ghost appearing behind you in the mirror 

and disappearing in a blink of an eye 

just to leave you questioning if it even happened at all

 

i used to think that moving on was never telling the story 

never sewing the things you said to me into the tapestry i hung on the walls to cover up the cracks

but now i realize that moving on is feeling the tap of invisible hand on your shoulder 

and not turning around to see what it might be 

it is not hunting for the ghosts in the basement begging them to show themselves 

i know now that they will always be there 

and i think that’s okay 

i think my ghost would want me to remember 

to take comfort in the creaks of the mahogany floor 

not out of longing, or even out of love, but out of reverence for her experience 

not to remember you as the person i once truly believed to be the only soul that matched mine

but as a memory of a time in my life 

when the living room was filled with flowers

and there was a fresh coat of paint on the walls