I find myself at times
living my life
as if I was trapped
in a haunted room–
spending all my days and nights
all alone with
my hopeless longings
hanging like torn and tattered
curtains,
heavy with years.
Ghostly companions
whispering in the dark
And even when I
try to escape
I can’t get far–
without tripping on
all my unanswered questions
and unfulfilled dreams
piled in the corners,
like unpaid bills.
As if I owe myself
more agony
As if I fear getting behind
in my suffering.
As if only the frightening truth
will set me free.
I would love to renovate
so the the walls of that
room could come crashing down–
and all the old secrets would
crumble and blow away.
Or maybe it would be enough
just for the door to be
locked forever–
and left as a resting place
for other ghosts– not mine
who would keep company
with all that I had
finally left behind in that
old haunted room.
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