Ghosts Have a Way of Following (a poem)

There’s nothing unique about the way
We fled the ghosts in younger days

You carried the trauma like me
Deep in rusted bones
But we could never escape
You knew as well as I did

Ghosts have a way of following
Ethereal, stubborn spirits
We never outrun our pasts
Though we think we can

Faces like gray skulls
Skin peeled back, forever smiling
Because they know we are
Desperate and fighting

At your funeral, many were wailing, crying
Your secret’s safe with me
The dread you carried every day
So much effort into just surviving

(Photo by Adrian Dascal on Unsplash)


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