Past.
She comes tonight again as usual
People claim I'm the one who visits her
Either way
She has come to haunt me again
I know I killed her
But I killed me too - we both died
Can she let me
Make a new one that is similar to her?
I didn't want it to end this way too
I wanted to walk, hand in hand
To the aisle as well
I did not wish to see her die untimely
This ghost,
It's the ghost of my dead dreams
That I could not achieve
Despite my trials and efforts
Why does she haunt me?
She asked me at the end of her speech
So I reached out and held her hand
You are the one who calls on her
You visit her grave
Because you are still so attached to her
Your past does not need you
But your future needs your attention
The choice is always yours to make...
Thank you for your time.
My pen doesn't bleed, it speaks, with speed and ease.
Still me,
My tongue is like the pen of a ready writer.
Olawalium; (Love's chemical content, in human form). Take a dose today: doctor's order.
The past is gone, and the future is yet to come. What we do in the present will determine the kind of past we will reminisce about when the future eventually becomes a past too.
Absolutely... yesterday sets the tune for what tomorrow would look like ..
Oh, your poem just touched my heart.
The line,"I know I killed her
But I killed me too - we both died" i like it so much.
I am happy to hear that 😊🤗