Heavy trumpets and a slow breeze stiring my hair into the room
I am a ghost inside of a girl's body I do not recognise anymore
Although,I wish I could get to know her better.
Each day that passes is in slow motion again
My heart is a now a glass of old wine that everyone likes
Yet,everyone is too afraid to get too much of ,so they don't get tipsy
So that they do not collapse on a pavement with feelings
For that ghost.
That curly haired,sad ghost.
Each night my soul returns to the jazz bar.Flirts with the bartender who is so tired yet has to smile to look kind to the customers.
This is not a life we were all craving.
Not a death we were expecting
But in this jazz bar eveyone decides to grow out of it.
YOU ARE READING
Room Full Of Ghosts
PuisiA series of poems in which I see things differently than most people.That old vintage vibe that has been inside of me forever,this is all I want to give to you.My soul aches,so I seek for poetry in everything I touch.
