By: Melanie Heard
Copyright 2021, May not be used for any purpose without express written permission from the author.
The ghosts we leave behind Stand waving in the crumbling archways.
White scarves flowing in the whipping wind
Probably too long…
Probably too dramatic…
Like a movie
A song
Or a torrid dream.
It is always daybreak or twilight
And never in between.
For mid-day ruins the effect.
They cannot touch us
Nor we them.
Instead…
They twitch one side of their mouths.
Sadistic
Sardonic
Illicit
Smiles should not be so grim.
They know pain
Like a wool blanket on our hearts
And they watch and wave
And smile their half smiles.
They know we will see them again.
Again.
If only to recall.
The hurt
The sting
The rusted wedding ring.
We walk away
Swearing never to look over our shoulders.
They send us off…
With night wind kisses that
Make us shiver.
And ache.
The white whipping scarves
Stretch out like lies.
Half smiles and trembling memories
Of splintered mirror images.
Laughter like a car crash.
As if only to remind us
We can never leave the ghosts behind.