Her past with the ghost of men
Why playing games when you can be loved by me
Why keeping secrets when I am free minded with you
Was this how you know to love
Why playing with my feeling
With all the secret men around you
Say you don’t need me no more
And I promise to let you go
There is no need to break my heart
You can’t eat your cake to have them back
There is no more needs for new lies
Till now all i see is
Her past with the ghost of men
Her past with the ghost of men
You told me you were single
You told me you were free to go from the beginning
I trust your words
But now your actions speak more volume
Your ways are different from your words
You broke your own promises
Never remember your vows
Is obvious i lost you while you claim am your one and only
Cos I see a lot of men around you
From your past to present moment
Enough of toxic energy
So Despite her claims of innocence
All i see was
Her past with the ghost of men
I do not scream when it starts.
Just walk barefoot into the forest,
where birch trees bend down to me like elder women,
and the moss knows all of their names.
All of them from my season’s past,
haunting me, scolding me, reminding me of their sacrifices.
Breaking open my flesh, cracking the cavity of my chest,
where all of my rotten fairy tales drip out in despair.
My grief has learned to follow close behind
before it ever learned how to run away.
It lingers behind like steam from a broken kettle,
silent but always seeping through the cracks of my wreckage.
I used to call him father.
Now, he’s just a ghost.
One that carries the reeking of December’s air into my home,
the sound of creaking branches under his lumbering weight.
What holds the echoes of his every scream,
his touch that bruises every soft fruit it touches.
The ghost doesn’t speak.
He caresses my shoulders when I forget him,
pinches my skin when I smile too hard,
leaves my breath in frost every night.
Gamut the exposed mist,
Hail that zero hour’s nigh,
Occasions the deceased,
Spirited phased its grave,
Tombstones elicit ground,
Lured by textbook imaged,
Yields ample space afloat.
Ghost eyes was following me
So, I hid behind an oak tree
I was to scared to run
At first I though it was fun
Until he slime me and I couldn't see
Ghost ships come alive on dreamy oceans,
Where we, in the guise of little children,
Are allowed to explore
Each and every mast, rigging and knot.
We are.
I become Errol Flynn, Harrison Ford, and Rudolph Valentino all rolled into one.
You take on the form of our favorite leading lady,
Now we get to save your ass
From the villainous Blackbeard.
Even Captain Hook has his hand in on trying to stop us.
Out comes that shiny sword--
Light as a toothpick and silver.
We slash down the sails onto the rabid pursuers
Then bloodlessly skewer them into inaction.
We free you again and again.
The Ghost Inside My Head
I see you when I close my eyes
I hear you when I sleep I night
I miss you when the morning comes
I try so hard to bury you
Yet you never seem to stay dead
I try, I try to run from you
The ghost inside my head
You left me when I needed you
But it was impossible for you to stay
You shattered the windows and changed the locks
All so you can get away
You took away my peace of mind
So when I lie in bed
I find myself haunted by
The ghost inside my head
With lucidity comes memories
Of days with you long past
And dreaming only brings the things
I know could never last
My mind is as a home left empty
Where hurt accumulates like dust
And the foundation of my heart still stands
Only because it must
I wish I could say goodbye to you
Keep you just a memory instead
But youre forever living on as
The ghost inside my head
It lurks around each corner
at every stop he makes
In front of every camera
from the time he wakes
It’s everywhere he travels
each place he tries to hide
A friend of old, who’ll always be
right there by his side
He wants us to forget him
but he won’t go away
That pedophilic friend of his
with whom he used to play
It’s just too bad for Donald
Epstein’s Ghost will never die
His victims live to challenge
every perpetrator’s lie
They walk as if they're guided
By winds and gentle hands
Hold lanterns the distance
Held in childish hands
Afar you see them floating
Their Laughter echoes on
Those gentle hands caress them
These ghosts we are among
They were the Children of the sun
But darkness called so sweet
They embraced the gentlest hands
Walked with childish feet
They dissappear into the gloom
Watch the fading light
Those gentle hands have taken
Those children of the night
Ghost
I have become a shadow
A mere silhouette in your heart
I have become that flicker of flame
You will soon blow out
I have become that old worn sweater
You will soon throw away
I have become that favorite book
You no longer find time to read
I have become that memory
You will soon forget
I stitched my silence with threads of things I couldn’t say.
I yearned with the last pieces I had stored away.
The moon watched me unravel, but never turned away.
The sea heard my cries, but never bothered to ask me "why?".
I carved poems on the inside of my ribs just to feel alive.
And the lines suffocated me instead of bringing me back to life.
Now I wear my pain like a second skin—
Quiet, but tight.
Eyes search for yours in a room filled with aching hearts.
But yours were always the kind to look away when it got too dark.
The smile you wore felt so fake,
Never could see me in the eye but always watched me When it was time to say— goodbye.
You held my ghost like it was still breathing,
But never dared to touch the girl I was beneath.
Touched my skin like it’s what made me, me.
Still, unaware about the nights in me.
You kissed daylight onto my body,
But left my shadows starving in silence.
So I became the quiet storm you never saw coming
Soft in presence,
But drowning everything you left untouched.
englands ghost story
brown lady of raynham hall
gliding down the stairs
appearing nightly
dressed in a bridal veil
jilted at alter
What do I know?
living in dreams
chasing the space
the void between
stars and lamplight
chasing love songs
baptismal in beer
running wild tonight
chasing the smoke
an electrified prophet
plays six strings
ghost town blues
Ghost Rainbow
A woman rang me, she was panegyric about my poems
I smiled without mirth because I knew there would be
a question of financing, the publishing of a book I have
had high hopes for, but had been turned down too often
The woman was adamant about the manuscript
Intense Recall was art, she insisted, a mastery of art.
For one who has spent twenty years trying to become
A writer and poet can so easily fall for flattery
The woman, on the phone, said she loved me, that alone
rang warning bells, and I thought of the Fascist poet, who
lived in Italy all his life, a poet who expects to be paid
is not a real poet; I assume he, like so many other poets
had private means
The price for making me into a famous poet was not
excessive, quite reasonable, yet too much, so I have
to forgo being famous; that is ok, no one will sit down
and write lies about me
She came tonight, a whisper soft,
As I lay reading, lost in thought.
Her warmth curled close, a phantom grace,
And time dissolved in her embrace.
The book fell silent in my hand,
Her breath was there, I swear I felt.
A tear broke free, then came the flood—
A river born of love and guilt.
Three decades gone, yet still she stays,
A shadow dancing through my days.
She left because they locked me in,
For sins I never did commit.
She couldn’t bear the bars between,
The silence stretched too far, too wide.
She chose the stars, the final flight—
And left me here to ache and write.
I never let her fade from view,
Her name still trembles on my lips.
I love her still, I always will,
Through every crack my heart equips.
Why, Baby, why? We’d still be whole,
If fate had not betrayed our soul.
But maybe love defies the grave—
And finds a way to still be brave.
So let the spectral glow remain,
A light that cuts through loss and pain.
She’s still with me, in dreams, in breath—
Love outlives even death.
no such thing as ghosts
until you meet one yourself
a blood chilling scream
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