A.W. Books & Poetry

Never so black

Deepest of blues

Hello there, ghost

Did you follow me from June?

Recall I shan’t,

But try I will:

Why you haunt me from

Bookcases and meadows

Lacking ill will?

I don’t shed a tear,

My interior is seared,

I just stare,

Because I never forget.

It’s all there

In the veins of

Slowly dripping ink dots,

On a soaking-wet, paper soul,

Each one from someone I loved,

Each one turning me cold.

But the ghost taps his quill,

And another drop falls

In the candlelight

An angel cries.

~Annalise