When you're dead, you're suddenly uprooted even if your body remains still in the ground.
You can move swiftly and observe what you never could see before.
People feel your presence even when you're not really there.
They think they're special.
They think you'd care enough to haunt them.
Instead, you're busy watching the sunset.
You can hear them cry out your name and ask you not to go away.
You're still busy watching the moon rising.
Feelings are so different when you're no longer breathing.
Love is so freeing when you've let go.
While their grieving by your grave, you're stuck observing the sky, wondering why?
Why are you still here?
Can't you see the light?
Can't you reach the heavens?
. . .
You have been looking right into the flames.
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Past regrets and mistakes you think you can't redeem because you think it's all ended and get stuck in the mind of questioning why and not moving on, which ends up dragging you down. The ghost had the chance to goodbye and work on moving on, but instead got stuck.
YOU ARE READING
Life Beneath The Words At Play
PoetryMy poetry is only to fill blank pages. You decide how to color it in. That meaning, you can interpret the poems the way you want. I only put the words together, and you decide the rest :) Yet another poem dump for my unorganized mess that is my poe...
