ghostly

Some words remain,
unspoken, unpublished, unread.
Some pictures,
unprinted, unseen…
their chaos distracting,
deafening and blinding.

Some people will be forgotten;
their smell, taste, soft skin and heavy sounds,
only a spark to light a match between the dust in our dreams;
never a conscious memory.
They become a faint, foggy gray when we are deeply asleep,
dispersed within that space between the stars.
Softly, sadly, they are ignored.
Left behind, without haste, without turning back. 
Forgiven, without fear.
Sincerely, with love.

And as my own eyes close each night,
as the galaxies within my soul open,
as the old, faint reels reveal,
I will see your face out there in the darkest black, deep in sleep.
Our eyes will meet out there where sight and sound is

impossible.

In-between that space, with a smile, 
I will say, again,
“I love you.”

And our hands will touch,
within that special place between the stars.
Where sound does not exist,
where sight, is blinded by heartbreak,
where the milky way is comprised of my salty tears.
Tears, you can taste with your lips,
your lips, a calm home I could never kiss goodnight.
Only goodbye.
I must now say, goodbye.
A home of a memory I must forget,
each waking new day.

Some things, places and people must live on as ghosts,
for the moon will carry away the waves of tears in such sorrow,
away from a living memory, for the sake of sanity.
Upon each slow wake to the sun,
they will remain forgotten.
The Sun’s warmth will blanket the pain
and each breath breathed in will seek forgiveness,
between the collapsed memories,
between the drops of salt from my eyes.

And upon another sleep each night,
I will find my way home toward the moon,
Always to watch him tilt his loving head and whisper,

It wasn’t all for naught. 

PoemsASHLEY CHILDS