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Ghosts
April 5, 2013
I automatically think of you, the way you disappeared.
I think of the color of your hair, your favorite band, the way we use to talk to each other.
A ghost you say? He’s lost his soul? Impressive.
We did everything together.
Our last fight, was it my fault?
The way you went? I need your peace.
Love? No such thing in this harsh and tethered world.
YOU were different.
Aside from all of these selfish hypocritical imbisuls.
Now all that is left of you is the ghost, not even your soul has stuck with you anymore.
I wish I could be surprised.
© Matt F., Pierz, MN
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