Requiem for the Ghost of Forever

A ceiling above us, and a floor below,

don’t touch, don’t touch,

this forever-ghost,

watch the cracks

 as they spread and flow,

all mine for the taking,

if I want it,

I know. Stop.

Stop, at the edges,

put your hands out now,

and knock me, tender, to the floorboard-ground,

roll me beneath you and without a sound,

speak the words, say them over again.

Listen, listen – can you hear

the rain, on the slates,

down the chimney shaft? Raise an eyebrow, make me

laugh, like the water

as it scurries through drains – watch the forever-ghost wax

and wane, like a moon in the window pane.

Lay, lay,

lay my head

on your shoulder,

so much time now;

past and older, so much tomorrow

and yesterday grown colder,

so much ‘sorry’ already…too much.

All passed,

all is trust,

in your eyes as you smile and make plans;

and the forever-ghost sits down

on the

bottles and

cans of a barely contained future,

she bows her head, as a weary creature,

for she knows

the awful truth.

Those words are spoken again,

and I cannot answer - because it isn’t you.

And the forever-ghost fades away to nothing,

leaving behind her,

a deepening blue.