Ghost story

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…

 

 

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