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Your Ghost
I’m blind to what I don’t understand
And I’m numb to everything I feel.
Across a field
A fielded land
Filled with flowers
Each to represent
Every card we’ve dealed
And I wondered where
They all had flew
Every sleepless night
Where we lie awake
Tired and waiting til the day renew.
And now I sit here.
I pick a flower and
Reside it behind
Your ghost’s cold ear.
I sit and I wonder
Where all the days have gone
Where all the time has gone
To whisper how much
I love you too.
For what else is one supposed to do?
When they have no more cards
Just a powerless shell
Shell of a person.
Hollow and empty
Hollow and
empty.
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This article has 1 comment.
Hey ! I'm Al, an artist of many forms and a brain rotted punk to many. This poem is in debt to my love for the person I cannot see always, and the reoccuring pain I feel at times that fails to leave on waking nights without them. I hope this poem speaks to the person that couldn't put this feeling into words or phrases.