Old Wounds
Composed, my dreams embrace, then fade
with memories, quite undefined
returning nights, upon the shade
when clocks are wound, and sun reclines
When weariness is not enough
to lie alone, to sleep again,
the darkest ghosts, upon the cliffs
return as if I've begged them in
Appearing with unspoken words
to pull the quilt from tender bones
to race the heart, and pace the halls
and magnify what 's come and gone
For in the dark, a voice is clear
It calls to me, and I can hear
where loneliness has been my friend
and clearer than I could recall
I've pulled apart a scab disturbed
as if it were an angry wound
and somewhere in the distant world
a part of me has never healed
By light of day, you are gone
I'm still alive, and still alone
hovering within the mist,
with sunlight slipping down the trees
I'll brush my hair, and make the most
ignoring ghosts, all through my day
Tonight will come, and, still, I hope
to welcome sleep, becoming lost
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