the ghost inside.

The ghost came back. The ghost came back again, I am sure. I saw its daunting face so clearly. The ghost had returned to my dreams to haunt my sleep. It was there, passing by like a fleeting moment, like in every other dream. It was there.

Then, it was not; it stepped out of my mind and back again as an awakened memory. How is it that I dream different dreams of the same ghost, over and over? Why does it keep coming back?


But I know, inside, I am the one willing it back. I want that ghost to come back. I want it to come back, but as something more than just a shadow of what once was a person.

Yet, yesterday is yesterday, and cannot come back again. How can I revive the person of a ghost? I cannot. The dead are dead and their ghosts, ghosts.

I can only keep on dreaming, and haunting myself with what I cannot have.