Ethereal, floating
on the wind,
nothing could touch you.
Nothing to feel.
And nothing would hurt you.
A ghost,
you slip past existence.
Pushing through,
passing on.
With no one to say your name.
Keener senses
cannot lie.
A muffled cry,
and whispers in the dark.
I can still feel you.
You search for something
as I, unable to fill that wanting
void,
stumble quietly through grief.
Do not despair, you will say.
For I am neither living, nor dead.
Just a ghost.
(83 words)
2 comments:
Oh wow.
Chaos, your poetry moves me. It's as if you see to the heart of all emotions, and can come up with the words to express it.
I love your sense of sound, the internal beauty without the choppy sing-song of traditional end-rhyme. Maybe it's late and maybe my empathy button is broken, but I could not put a name to this emotion. (I can barely put a name to my emotions, so there you go.) But the last three lines...oh. It was resignation and numbness. I liked it.
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