haunting memories of her

The Lonely Author

Drink enough wine and combine them with lonesome thoughts and your mind can conjure anything.  Monday night, thoughts about what would happen to me if my precious Baby said goodbye, plagued me.  This is a product of that dispirited mood.  Something very different.

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her absent love hangs heavily
like the dusty drapes in an abandoned mansion
forbidding hope to enter
forever entombing me in darkness

white blown kisses float aimlessly
appearing as wandering apparitions
chanting unanswered questions
in search of eternal light

pale ghosts of affections lost, torment me
dragging my unrequited carcass
burying me alive with haunting memories of her
in a tomb I could never escape

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Don’t worry.  Love is on the menu for tomorrow.

Photo Credit:  ghost of love 2 by marcianus

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