I saw a ghost.
A silhouette of mist, glowing pale like a dream
As I child I feared the dark
Yet it wasn't fear my visitor gifted me that night
A bitter touch of endless winter, after the last flame dies
An aching void, only fragments of stinging remembrance
I prayed for it to leave, to dissipate into its home of shadow
But really, I wanted it to stay, my kindred spirit.
Was it the ghost of my past?
Was it you?
Was it me?
Or was it a promise? Foretelling of my fate?
That horrible, eternal longing, lost in nothing
That is real fear.