Paranormal

We pass silently,
Through the house,
Like shadows,
Grasping at reality,
Begging to touch,
To feel,
Two ghosts,
Ethereal,
Craving existence,
Cursed to never embrace,
Never to kiss,
Those lips,
The pain is an eclipse,
On my soul.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2024

Poem

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August 9, 2024 at 9:00 AM
Oh, when the end comes it either relief or pain or both. Passing through the house, words unspoken, you know the end is nigh.
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