Ghosting
I’m tired of being a ghost,
of watching people pass
right through me with only a chill
to take from our interaction.
No one visits my grave anymore.
No one places taut fingers
on a planchette for me
to spin around a board.
I just glide from room
to room, watching.
If I am to be stuck here
in the veil between worlds,
perhaps I should start being
more malicious . I could try
throwing plates, slamming
doors , opening cabinet drawers.
I could haunt their ever waking days.
But that’s not me, and.
I don’t want to lose myself
in death.
4 thoughts on "Ghosting"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
I enjoyed this poem, and thank you for being a polite ghost! I think the white space here just gives a spooky shape to the subject as well as to the reading. This really highlights the idea that people can pass right through you. Lovely!
this is how i feel. it makes me sad. i really like the spacing.
Gorgeous piece. You had me at the first: “I’m tired of being a ghost,/of watching people pass/right through me”
The spacing draws me in, demonstrating the too often fleeting nature of human interaction and our ideas of what we could do differently.
However, I love how you do away with that spacing in the closing lines, showing conviction in what you are/are not going to do. It’s incredibly effective.
Very nice work indeed!