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359 Pine
Old Gray
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Ailments become fragments of my imagination;
I am encumbered by nothing.
Hands in hand with a ghost of your former self,
Someone I once held away from the torments of situation;
No longer am I strong enough- another voice has taken over,
Controlling, binding, leaving the person I am- fucking helpless,
Awaiting its next consensus.
A face that is not there taunts me,
Breathing the same air that she held in her lungs,
Breaking, for it all seems so familiar.
I have been lost and faded into this place,
Waking only to find it still surrounds me,
Blotting out the pain but with it, the comfort.
For I was a being existing but absent of life,
Selective thoughts showing only bliss.
Sifting through tarnished images of a past you were a part of,
Mind blanketed by memories- the ghost of your former self,
Someone I once held and time stood still.
Time stood still, at least to us.
At least to us.
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