“In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.”

 ― Laurie Halse Anderson

The Living Ghost

By Amelia Rose

A living ghost

Haunts me in my dreams

His presence always finds me

In the darkness of the night

As I sleep, restless on my sheets

The living ghost

Is ghoulish

He cares not for my soul

But my heart

Is what he seeks

So he may devour it whole

The living ghost

Wakes me

From my agitated rest

But he does not desert me

I feel his ravenous grip

Pressing down upon my chest

And even in my waking hours

This ghost measures my every breath

And at times I think I will succumb

And lie down unto death

Before him, for there is no ceasing

His relentless hunting of my heart

And despite my weary years increasing

All my hope of him releasing

Me is futile

His grasp is sturdy, stout and strong

And I feel him holding on

I’ve lost all hope he will depart

And leave me 

To my own devices

He will not rest, nor let me rest

For that would surely thwart his vices

There is no hope

There is no future

There is no path toward escape

And so night after night I lie upon my sheets

And hear his grating scrape

The living ghost

He haunts me now

Just as he’s always done

I’ll keep trying to elude him 

For as long as I can

But in the end, he’s already won.