“The people you love become ghosts inside of you and like this you keep them alive.”

But if you’re the harbour of a thousand wisps of soul, who is going to keep them from leaking out of the holes in your heart? (And your rag-tag of a sweater on those cold winter mornings.)

No one.

Because you’re ghosted and closed. You’ll never let them out, those ghosts. And in very much the same way, with ferocity and love that could kill, you’ll never let anyone alive in.

Your love is for the dead.

Such a pity for the living.


p.s Check out Robert Montgomery’s installment, it’s wonderful and inspired this little bit.


4 thoughts on “Ghosted”

  1. I am not sure how I feel about this poem. It evokes some interesting and personally meaningful, but also seems to stop resonating with some of its words. Deliciously conflicted.

    I have several ghosts inside me. Their light, however, is free to come and go at will. My memories of those who have passed allow me to share a dimension with them, even if the moment is fleeting. The ghosts inside me include those who once graced my life, but geographic – and sometimes emotional distance has pulled them away. I see and hear those ghosts when I am reminded of their words, a phrase of music, or physical location. I sometimes see the ghosts of family members passed in my children. Which adds an interesting element, as some of those ghosts were not known to them when they were in this realm.

    thank you for the inspiration!


    1. I love how you described it..deliciously conflicted. I suppose that’s what I was aiming for, since nothing about loss and life is packaged perfectly. On one hand, with time, those ghosts seem like they’re fading or you feel the need to let them go and on the other, they’re part of you and sometimes painfully so. It’s interesting how you brought up the ghosts within your children, I hadn’t thought of it in that perspective and it’s incredibly fascinating. Thank you for commenting!

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