I’m a ghost,
But not of an afterlife,
I’m not dead,
Just not entirely here,
A hollow spirit,
I gave myself out too much,
Charity for too many hearts,
There was no blood left for me,

Each call for help,
Became a funeral invitation for me,
Burying more of myself,
I lost my form,
I wasn’t enough,
No more flesh,
Wasn’t enough to give,
It hollowed me out,

So now I float about an old house,
I wail in the twilight,
Gasping stridor in the black,
But I’m not here to startle,
Just to wallow in my own eulogy,
Ectoplasmic gibberish,
Among guttering candles,
And black cats,

Not enough,
Not,
Enough.

Comments
  1. sereichert says:

    This catches me somewhere visceral. Thank you, for giving words to that feeling

  2. drpassenger says:

    man word of life and word of dead.. just loving it

  3. Bruna Farias says:

    like a beautiful tale of terror that we all live in!

  4. Mysterious and wonderful words.

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