I saw a ghost in the wall
captured in the brick and the
paint and his name
written in graffiti scrawl.
I hadn't seen him in a long time,
and most of the ghosts
have become whispers
as people forget them.
It was a hall of ghosts
on the back wall by an
alley, pointing the way
for me to dream or dare.
This is a blog of some poetry I wrote at different times. Mostly it's about my broken heart.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
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