deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Ghost
what do you say when all's done and gone
when words are useless and actions speaks louder
what do you do when there's nothing left to say
when all you can do is breathe for another day
and he answers
I will wipe her name from my heart
as will the waves wipe the sand
of all imprints everyday
I will erase the memory of her face
from my mind and my heart
I will travel on and superimpose
another's laughter in my happiness
she is a ghost
haunting an empty house
she is a spectre
just floating dusts...
Published 9th Jul 2017
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9th Jul 2017 10:57am
Really, really love this piece of poetry. Love its depth and imagery. I feel as though I know the ghost.
~anonshadow
~anonshadow
9th Jul 2017 12:40pm
Sometimes when one is no longer somebody's beloved, they become mere ghosts haunting one's memories.:) anonshadow. I have been one a number of times. Thank you for reading me as always.
Anonymous
9th Jul 2017 4:05pm
Graceeee!! oh my geesh
round of applause for you, my fine hairs stood tall and warm
round of applause for you, my fine hairs stood tall and warm
14th Jul 2017 2:46am
Hi Spiltsunsets_XVII...you honour and humble me with your comments. Thank You so much for reading me.
9th Jul 2017 6:45pm
So much beauty and melancholy to this Grace. Got me crying a little in fact. Ghosts can be lost and alone, sad specters rather than chilling. I doubt that the speaker's answers in the second stanza will hold up. He will be haunted if he has any sensitivity. Just as it should be.
14th Jul 2017 3:00am
Hi Crowfly, :) thank you for reading me and for being here. Indeed I believe the person who leaves with that excuse will never really be relieved of guilt.
13th Jul 2017 2:14am
Tender and stirring Write!!!
You have the deliverance of melancholy to pitch Perfect!!!
Lovely tugs to the heart!!!
You have the deliverance of melancholy to pitch Perfect!!!
Lovely tugs to the heart!!!
14th Jul 2017 3:06am
Thank you Soul, for reading and commenting. Sad eh. Practise makes perfect actually.
17th Jul 2017 5:02am
This poem aches me in places of absence that few have tenors to touch within me, after having grown concentric rings of stone around my heart. It's a beautiful tragedy, this life, and your poem casts a beautiful and relatable reflection.
17th Jul 2017 5:17am
