I’ll begin as all good stories do, at the end.
My end, with no end in sight.
No answers, no cure for the shadows
that haunt me,
those favourite shades
like blinds, like curtains drawn down
over my eyes,
a screen of flesh
tender, thin skin that keeps the ghosts out.
Turn on the light, brighter, bright.
I’m scared that they’ll visit me tonight.
This is a piece of poetry, as the title suggests, that explores those things that ‘haunt’ you, whether it’s memories, people, or something more supernatural…