Some nights back then, I waded through
the cemetery of my dreams
I recall...
The banging of doors
and the movements of frames
went straight into the farthest rooms
of my memory lanes
When a silhouette of you
appeared in the dark,
every step of your feet
had a weight on my ears
Each time I thought you're already near,
I see you there approaching still
When I cannot cover the silence
with both of my hands,
the shrieking noise made my ears paralyzed
No tears came out from my blinding sight
Swept off by logs
and stepping through mud,
I knew you were walking me back to that hill
It wasn't long until
when you pinched my skin with a pin
like the balloon you've been eyeing to
explode but have never once been,
when you crushed me on the ground,
every punch I endured was a sound
of warped flashes of the memory lanes
that happened 3 years before at your house
where you baptized my graves
over and over again
where you burned another picture
ritually mouthing
"in the name of a friend"
"in the name of a friend"
"in the name of a friend"
Finally that night,
before you turned the steering wheel,
when you touched my spine
through your sinful crimes,
I wondered,
to you, ghostless soul,
how would that feel?
That's why each brand new morning
I try to be awake
Try to burry the old haunting memory lanes
And dig myself out,
pretend like I'm a newborn babe
Looking back every now and then
to check if the route that I'm treading
is still the same
So may I ask again
To you, ghostless soul,
how would all of that feel?
— theptwelve
May 6, 2020
