a familiar ghost
Been a decade since I held this pen, Now it's autumn falling off my head. Missing the misery back and forth, Only to realise I've been here before. The seasons changed but the ink stayed blue, A familiar ghost in a coat that’s new. I traced the lines of the ghosts I’ve kept, In the quiet corners where the silence slept. They don't rattle chains or haunt the floor, They just wait like shoes beside the door. I find my hands still fit the mold Of every secret I never told. I’ll sit a while in the drafty hall, And watch the shadows climb the wall. There is no map for a heart this old, Just stories waiting to be told. It isn’t a memory, it’s a living stone, A familiar cold inside the bone. I watch the light start to subside— Autumn passes by, but winter resides.