Category: Writing

She isn’t dead but is to me,
I am haunted by memory,
She loves with a heart that don’t beat,
And her touch is cold to my body,
She blows a goodbye kiss to me,
With her lifeless, icy lips,
But it isn’t she who is deceased,
It is I, the ghost who’s living.

I poured my heart out to you,
One cold and rainy day,
I told you I’d loved you always,
But you just stormed away.

Memories of you,
Like distant shores…
I’m lost at sea,

Drowning in remorse,
The lighthouse beacons…
But there’s an ocean between us,

Black and blue.