Two ghosts

you sit at that mahogany desk you love
diligently researching paranormal things
you look for an answer in what isn’t clear
sadness is cruel to your feverish heart
you miss me, I know this very very well
I miss you and hold on in this place still
you held me in the last moments of life
I remember all your words and actions
you feel my touch, but I do alarm you so
I whisper in your ear, “Be my lungs, love.”
you look pained and move so violently
I cannot catch you as you fall from me
you left those papers to be with me today
I’m sorry but it had to be this way, my love
you see me now, but there is much horror
I felt that way too, yet the horror will pass
you say, “It was always you here close.”
I say with conviction, “Yes. Always close.”
you look at me and I look you and we see
we see the love we have for each other

from where we came

The burning embers of our love blow through the wind to burn our skin.

From where we came only dragons know, yet it was a place of passionate fire.

We had it all until you tore a hole through my heart and I smashed our love to shards.

Now, we stand in the silent darkness waiting for the earthquake to crush what is left of our love and return it all to the dirt.

My chest aches and yours is broken;
still, I wish we hadn’t fucked it all into pieces.

Along the Kyle

Hills of green can be seen far and wide, although, down here forever is blind.

The sky is shy today, as he decides that we all need a decent dose of grey without rain.

Winds flow through the castle which once housed our family and our loved hearts.

The sky knows what my heart feels, but he’s always been good at knowing this.

I’ve travelled far and wide to try and escape the pain I feel missing you, but I cannot keep going forever.

The sky tells the rain to hold off. The rain tells the sky to fuck off. How like a married couple these two are in retrospect.

Walking along the Kyle, I know the time nears. How wonderful that after 100 years of your moods, you and I will meet again.

The rain begins to fall. It looks like the rain won that argument. Perhaps I will too.

Waiting for You

This world wasn’t meant for the weak, but am I really that strong?

I see you in another land with a pink smile and shining eyes, but is that really you in there?

Sitting in my room with mould on the walls and a cold chill that seeps through, I’m reminded of poverty.

Yet, when I look out the window I see the highlands calling. The streams and mountains call from somewhere ancient to tell me it will be alright.

As I look at the mirror black, I see a face I barely recognise staring back;
yet there’s familiarity in those eyes and in those lips.

Undecided yet hopeful, I run outside and towards the hills.

It’s not awful to run, but the sky is so beautiful and grey today.

I wonder when you’ll find me standing by a bin in some random street waiting to touch you again.