Not All Here

Maybe better inspiration now.

Where do I begin?

And how have I ended 

up in this sea of darkness,

that consumes my will,

my hope, and my light?

I wander through my days,

passing ghosts of strangers

and moments.

The ground that covered my

skeletons continues to erode, and

my past reveals itself again.

It comes in the form of blue eyes.

It pins blond hair and tucks it behind 

ears that used to listen when I cried.

It calls out "sexy" in such a 

familiar way.

I relish in the love that 

I can give myself, but it

is never enough.

The ghosts will never go.

They will creep up behind me and

lurk around ever corner

to haunt me with

the thought

of you.

But all along, there was nothing.

What I thought was ours was 

a lie. A trick of cards to make me

lie down for you.

Open up to you.

And you shut down for me 

and shut me up in a cage 

to keep me in for 

God knows how long.

Your language doesn't carry

the way it used to.

Does this have to do with

the way you stopped speaking 

the language of Forgiveness?

I would bet my chips on that, 

but we've run clean out.

As we gather around the table

with cards and blank faces,

I read your expression like

you skimmed my apologies.

You, as an almost lover, as if 

a lover is all you meant to me.

A friend would have been accurate,

had you wanted to but a friend be.

Author's Note

Experimenting with inverting syntax.