Ghosts of my past
Haunting my heart
Glinting through crevices
Of the old creaky door
I've shut
They don't understand
The frame is shaky
And they are still scary
The room is dark
It's winter and the sun is a shy acquaintance
I like tucking my cold feet under the rugs
And sip on the hot tea in a pretty little cup
But as I take my eyes off the movie screeching through the screen
I notice the glinting ghost
Through those crevices
And it is stronger than ever today
I shouldn't have started watching that horror film
The door is rattling
The green glow is brighter than ever
The door bursts open
the hinges fly off the wood and land at my warm feet
I'm petrified
I'm staring it in the eye
The beautiful painful cold silver eyes
And then the numbness varies off
Those craggy fingers reach for me
They are in my hair
It's like my own fingers
It's like me
The ghost has green hands identical to mine
And a distorted face with gleaming eyes
I couldn't help a chuckle
My skin is ticklish
Those fingers are tracing my arm
The fear trickles out of my brain
I was terrified of where I'm from
My hands green from the wooded hills where they belong
My face distorted from the haze fuzzing my memory
And in solace, the ghost becomes nostalgia
The face moulds in front of me
And the silver of her eyes dims to reflect my brown
And we sit together and chat over tea that connects us
And the city in me frowns in disapproval
I overlook the disparity in our cups
And rejoice with the green heart we both have
The heart that cannot be concealed in grey city muck even if my entire body is dipped in it
It will always remain green, beating with the liberated lofty heights of the hills
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary
Poetry"I was so busy living in thoughts that when life was actually happening it struck so odd" This is a series of miscellaneous poem about nature, adventure, love, friendship, self identity, memories, hope, road trips and still more :)! P.S : do commen...
