There is a ghost in the room.
A bluish apparition.
He watches me silently.
Cold frost on his breath.
He’s been here for days.
What does he want?
He says nothing to me.
He watches and breathes.
Stares at me unblinking.
I feel the chill coming off him.
When I rise he is there.
Still so when I sleep.
He is not vicious,
but there is a sadness.
A quiet despair inside him.
I’ve tried to reach out.
He disappears when I get close.
Until today, when he rose.
He approached and the room,
it grew dark as night.
Frost formed on the windows.
Icy cold gripped my heart.
Fear and terror and despair.
Closer he walks, leaning to me.
I am paralyzed.
Lips to my ear, freezing.
I’m sorry he says.
This is what it is to be me.
I meant not to frighten you.
But how are you here?
I asked of the ghost.
And with that he was gone.
I’ve not seen him since.
Never again. But I wonder.
What happened to the ghost?
The ghost in the room.
Poetry
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The ghost can be symbolic of many things. Things that haunt all of us and some people more than others. One can express something and the haunting ends.
This poem wonderfully written opens the mind to so many images, so many feelings, thanks for sharing ..I enjoyed reading.