sure, i have an angry cat who likes to crawl on my face at night and a sixty pound pup who sprawls out like the bed is all his, but that's not really what causes the claustrophobia.
in the quiet of the night i'm haunted equally by the dark memories of regrets and the memories of better times. my heart starts racing and my mind sprints to keep up. suddenly, i am surrounded by my ghosts.
by grandpa and his quiet smile.
by that little boy in englewood who just wanted to be held.
by songs that touch my soul.
by stories that stretch my imagination.
by the hearts i've broken.
by the heart that broke mine.
by friendships built on mutual quirkiness.
by friendships that ended over trivial matters.
by the fact that i'm not living as "green" as i'd like.
by the fact that i never really knew my mother's father.
by stolen moments with strangers.
by swings that seemed to send us to the heavens.
by angry emails in my inbox.
by lyrics that can't seem to leave my head.
by questions for the Creator.
by questioning my self.
sometimes it just gets to be too much
and i can't handle it.
so i walk down the hall and crawl into a bed that's cold from a long vacancy.
sometimes the pets follow, but somehow the ghosts never do.
No comments:
Post a Comment