Not Waiting

I’m not waiting until I die

to haunt you.

My ghosts need practice

for all of the others

who will never be allowed

to forget me, so I’m putting them to work

tormenting you with echoes

of my laughter, my lips, my love.

My voice will whisper in your mind

even when you’re nowhere near the vicinity of sleep.

You’ll see my eyes and those long, lazy looks I lavished on you

in every pale blue you meet.

You won’t be able to read

without craving my words.

Every song you hear

will resonate with chords of me.

And nothing will ever

feel the same again.