Your Ghosts

I’d start at the beginning

But truth is

I don’t remember.

 

I’m sitting up alone

At night

While you sleep

And I’m talking

To your ghosts

 

Years ago we took a train.

Out of everything we saw

I remember the colours best.

 

Reds and greens and blues.

Yellows.

Terracotta and turquoise.

And the night sky

Like obsidian.

 

The sky here is flat black.

The walls are white.

The ceiling grey.

And I’m talking

To your ghosts.

 

Years ago I asked you

For a truth.

I was starting to lose faith.

And you told me

You found it difficult not to lie.

 

That was the only truth

You could give me.

 

And now

I’m talking to

Your ghosts.

I’m listening

As they tell me

Your story.

 

Every truth and breath.

Every secret sigh and silent look.

Every dark moment

As you lay with your thoughts.

I piece them together, a collection of fragments.

 

 

Years ago, we took a train.

I haven’t seen you since.