Ghost.
You built this house that I call home.
The colluders you created with me,
haunt my every move.
I never believed in the thing called ghost,
Til that night, you slammed the doors.
YOU ARE READING
Countless Nights
PoetryCountless Nights I have dreamt of you, Hoping when I woke up You would be there. (I will try and come up with a better description but for right now this is all I got)
