The old man made of mist
Sits at the end
Of the platform.
The young girl in
The wallpaper
Lingers on the stairs.
The dog with night-black fur
Guards the road home.
The pale widow
Stands waiting by
The window frame.
A condemned man
Paints anger in the air.
A half-drunk pint of beer
Waits for its owner
To come home.
And it waits.
And they wait.
And wait
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Write by day, write by night, even writing by candlelight.
"A soul for a soul, If you want to save him You must sell me your soul And be my servant," Death speaks to me.
Floating in between the worlds,. Life has left me stranded here,. Grounded, haunting, ever more,. Please, show mercy, lend an ear,. Listen, if just for a minute,. To my story, truth be told,.
#household. Pale face and misted eyes,. Past, a blur, a blur of lies,. Flowing hair of white and grey,. Passing through the town one day,. Walked through walls and open doors,.
She's smothered in silk, Pearls, ruffles and jewels, But something isn't right... She walks down the aisle, Looking for her love, Her dress a blackening white.
A wisp of life, But not quite dead, No giggles of joy, No tears to be shed. A silent girl, Reserved and shy, She's had her chance, She doesn't want to die.
I've seen a ghost. Three times now. Just the one. She sits in the corner and just smiles.
As the seasons change, From winter to spring, New tales are told, More stories to bring. Through summer The fireplace has no uses at all, But as the cold air draws near, The ash soon will fall.
I see your face here at my window, Your eyes pierce my soul through the glass, Your spirit, it haunts me for closure, I won't let this moment e'er pass.
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