The Haunting

The Haunting

Sometimes memories are poignant reminders,

Of unacceptable situations, of love’s binder.

A time of frivolity when lives were young,

Words and emotions slid from one’s tongue.

There was far more that could’ve been seen,

If the soul’s curtains were open revealing that within.

Passion without bridles, hearts filled with anticipation,

Now lay dead on gutted streets expecting no reparation.

Those left in the glimmer of yesterday’s hopes,

Have no idea how empty souls ever cope.

To leave the past in the past is easily said,

But it’s impossible and haunts one until they’re dead.

Now the soul is supposed to pick up and go on,

From slashing words, evil tongue’s relenting song.

Ears pinched, ever closed to the melody,

Of untrue words, unknowingly causing a parody.

Life has moved forward since illusions were spun,

The imaginary worlds promised but never began.

And now, like many who share this dilemma,

Being caught in a web of deceit, there is no winner.

Graying hair and trembling fingers now reside,

On our heads and hands, having worked to provide.

Shifting slothfully one foot in front of the other.

Hoping at least the soul with mercy is covered.

To live in the past is to take one’s last breath,

No bringing forward things that can cheat death,

So leave the past in the past, it’s better that way,

And allow yourself to enjoy life, for you only have today.