By Maddie Willigar | Assistant Editor
A chill still haunts my lungs from the words I never spoke.
They blew mistily through the air and carried weightless in the cold
because though I walked through walls for you, I was always just a
ghost.
Like an empty figure walking past your screens of smoke,
digging beneath your fire to find bits of treasured gold,
a chill still haunts my lungs for the words I never spoke.
Buried with my bones will be pieces that you broke
and left to sit in damp and filth, as they waste and rot and mold
because though I walked through walls for you, I was always just a
ghost.
But couldn’t you see your wind revealed the form beneath my cloak?
The candles you blew out to prove the fire you withhold
left a chill that haunts my lungs like the words I never spoke.
I never dared to say these words for fear it would provoke
the beast that hides within the woods and howls to be consoled
because though I walked through walls for you, I was always just a
ghost.
I wonder if days down the line, I’ll learn to clear my throat
and remove the bits of smoke you left in every inch of this household.
But for now, a chill still haunts my lungs from words I never spoke
because though I walked through walls for you, I was always just a
ghost.
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