Ghosts

Is it possible for a dead person

Who is alive,

To be a ghost?

Because sometimes I see you,

Dark haired and laughing near a train,

And you vanish into a stranger

Going Northbound.

Daddy is that you?

Sitting on my bed

And tipping over paint cans

And opening closed doors,

And leaving me coins across the city.

How are you here, but not?

It is possible for a dead person,

Who is alive

To be a ghost?

They say your name in conversations and I shutter a bit.

Did they see it?

The way my skin jumped at the syllables.

How can you exist over there

With me over here?

How can we exist without each other?

Selfish philosophy.

My friendships are always platonic

Because I snip them before they can grow.

Why can’t I hear your voice anymore?

Daddy, I forget what you sound like.

When I dream of you, you are silent

But alive, so alive.

In my waking you’re a ghost,

My thumbs are numb and tears come to my eyes,

I thought I killed you long ago,

But you haunt me like my goodbye was meager

And pulled from my tongue.

It is possible for a person,

Who is alive,

To be a ghost.

The air is filled with lavender and lies,

Told by a mind which could not fully erase

The figures that crafted it.