Becoming My Ghosts
They float past me, the ethereal glow slipping through my finger tips.
"Don't leave!" my insides scream. "Your memory will haunt my days!"
But on the outside, I smile and wave.
I convince myself they are better without me.
The Ghost of my past
The people I once loved.
I push them away, and when they don't pull back
That love seems lost .
I press my palms to my ears
Not wanting to hear the goodbyes
My insides cry "STOP!"
But my shouts are muffled
By the plastered on smile,
Encouraging them to go
and with false reassurance on my well being
they all too often do.
Walk straight from my heart
And into my past.
Becoming my ghosts.