The Lonely Ghost

Why will no one stop to tell me

that the moon is beautiful tonight?

Why do I wander

Lonely upon this night?

Why do lanterns

no longer beckon me home?

Oh, where is it I have awoken?

'Tis such a place

to lose a lonesome heart.

Tell me of love letters,

the ones you thought

you would never forget,

The ones you let slip from your fingers

as the rain bled ink from paper

and honesty from ink.

Is there an ear keen enough

to know of

The song that drifts over rooftops?

There is a song I remember well,

It drips from my pen,

     Gives me names

                                                                   Alas,

I can no longer sway

to its sweet melody.

Oh, wretched faith,

'Tis faith

Which starves blind men

and dries up pens.

'Twas faith in a lost thing,

'Twas a heart on a lonely afternoon

'Twas the tired snapping of a string.

My name

Does not matter,

And neither does yours,

For on this lamplit road,

On this bleeding thought night

I found

That it was not everyone else

that vanished with the rain

in a puff of tired thought,

But it was I.

I wandered far from home,

my soul kicking up dust

As my breath remained

but a stone's throw from my body.

It was the deftest thought

Dashed upon the coldest of realizations,

That made me realize

there is not

a single person on

this dust filled world

who would have

stopped to talk to me

as I emptied my heart to the moon.

So I sank to my knees,

And as the cold, ashen earth

rushed upwards to embrace me,

A void opened within,

And a sea of hollow insanity

flooded to fill the gap.

I'm a ghost under a rock,

And I am the only ghost.

What's more,

I am breath without wings,

And I am a lonely ghost.

I'm too cold

to sleep tonight,

And these are the last thoughts

I will ever have of home.