Ghosts

There is a world in me.

A whole world.

People still living there

even though

they died long ago.

People still talking,

though I have forgotten

the sound of their voices.

Old fights

still looking for an ending.

Old arguments still asking

to be heard.

Blame, Longing.

The endless ache for belonting.

So I built a safer world.

One of my own.

A place

where no one is abandoned.

Where those who leave

are gently let go.

Not trapped

in some forgotten realm,

not sentenced

to live forever inside me.

Yet somehow, they stay.

And I become the hostage.

Bound to a destiny

I never chose.

Living in yesterday.

Running toward tomorrow.

Always somewhere else.

Never here. Never now.

Maybe freedom is not forgetting.

Maybe it is opening the door,

watching the ghosts

walk into the light,

and resisting the urge

to call them back.

So this world in me can become

less of a graveyard,

and more of a home.

For the one who is still alive.

Me.