I am being haunted

by my ghost.

It must be my ghost,

it knows too much 

to arise from someone else’s body.

It remembers my past. 

Remembers my dreams,

the ones I forgot so quickly on wakening

and the ones I left behind later,

only to revisit in future dreaming.

It knows too much.

It remembers the past

I prefer to forget,

the mishaps,

the missed opportunities,

the opportunities grasped too soon,

too impetuously,

the people left behind, happily or not,

the feelings I felt.

It remembers it all

and stalks my present with it’s memories.

It must be my ghost.

It knows too much

to arise from someone else’s body.

No one came that close.

Not for so long,

a lifetime.

I made sure of that.

But how can it be my ghost?

I’m still living.

Still alive.

And ghosts belong to the dead,

to those with no future.

But it must belong to me,

this ghost of my present

living in my past.



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