the ghost and me

I can’t remember when I was here last. Funny how things can be different yet stay the same all at once. The tapestry is still looking pretty on the wall, but the corner table is now decorated with a lonesome vintage ashtray. There’s something familiar in the air – scent of tuberose? Where is it coming from? It takes me a while till I realize it’s my mind trying to make me feel at home.

empty front porch
full of sunset memories
crimson on windows

Somebody turns on the tap in the kitchen. The trees’ long shadows tell me it’s time for tea. Conversations, more like murmurs, waft into the room where I’m standing, looking out to rolling hills. Who’s here with me? How did they know I was here? Slowly I discover that they are echoes of who I used to be.

ghost of yesterday
occupying inner space
refusing to leave

Night falls and brings with it a sense of melancholy. I forget how dark it was in some corners, though strangely comforting. I breathe in the twilight breeze and remember why I loved it here. Safely hidden yet incredibly freeing, a place that seemed to be created for love to be born and grow and give birth to more love. Until someone comes along to say that the place belongs to someone else.

gray shadows dancing
in dark forbidden corners
an ode to the night

I sit quietly at the edge of silence, with a resolve to leave at first light. I hear voices and feel the touch, and know I’m not alone. When the moon appears I will ask her how long this beautiful space has been abandoned since I parted with the past.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

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