Halls of the Dark Muse

My Living Ghost

I have crawled through mud
with my belly to the ground,
that was a time without pride
only self-denial.

I look back upon those haunted days
and from the fire your face
always rises above.

There was a time when my soul
was ripped apart
and in silent nights I cried.

Not for the usual reasons
I knew I could always live
without you.

But I had always thought
you were the one I could talk to
in the dark.

Then I did not know how to grasp it,
and was left tongue-tied
on uneven ground, just trying
to stand up-right.

Fear ridden, left on the side lines,
but you in your turn were fickle,
let others not think I speak
of love, such was never for us.

Now cast adrift,
somewhere, nowhere,
I still wish for the impossible,
how many times have I seen it?

There were fleeting moments
when your face passed before
my eyes, but was it really worn
by a stranger?

Or have you turned ghost,
something flitting through my dreams,
but I cannot deny that I still
seek, fruitless as it may be.