Beautiful, beautiful boy, so sweet in your demeanor

Your crinkled eyes frame your shining smile

Your intentions even cleaner

Your heart is so open

You wear it on your sleeve

How do you do that, beautiful boy? 

How do you love so openly, without reprieve?

I wish I could love like you

But I fear my heart is locked away 

Behind a heavily guarded fortress 

That I so desperately wish would decay. 

A ghost built this fortress, so many years ago

And through the years, it’s stood tall

Through the floods, through the soot, through the snow.

I’ve tried to destroy it on my own

My hands are calloused from hammering at its brick

But I’ve barely made a dent, you see

I’m afraid only the ghost himself can demolish a structure this thick

How do I welcome back a ghost, 

I’ve spent half my life trying to push away?

What if he doesn’t come back in peace?

What if he doesn’t choose to stay?

I’ll wait on my front door step, 

With the autumn leaves beneath my feet,

Listening for that haunting rumble,

Of his singular, metallic black fleet.

I have performed every seance,

I have cleansed my house of all its rage.

But I still search for him in the audience

When I’m performing on that stage.

It was once out of fear

But now, I fear, it’s out of longing for

Something past, something new, yet nostalgic

Gently knocking at my door.

Dear ghost, bring yourself

And I’ll bring my tears,

My pools of relief,

After these six long years. 

When I swam in the ocean at daybreak, I looked into his narrow blue eyes.

When I ran my hand across the cool, sturdy Arizona red rock,

I felt his calloused hand once again holding mine. 

And when I ventured out under the brilliant desert moon and let the sage-infused desert air fill my lungs with peace,

I heard my ghost calling out to me

And I knew. 

How do I welcome back a ghost

After I have ran from him for so long?

After I decided he would be dead to me,

Why do I now want to know his favorite song?

I spoke with my ghost the other day.

His voice sounded different from how i remembered,

Like the violent waves of time crashed and broke through his body,

Leaving him more coarse, yet more withered.

I told my ghost about the Arizona red rock

And the mesmerizing desert moon

I showed him the ocean at daybreak,

But he played me his same old tune. 

I expected to hear this, though.

I was more prepared this time than last. 

Because this time, it bounced off my fortress walls,

Instead of adding onto them like in the past.

Ghosts can’t see the truth for what it is

They can’t even touch what’s real

And as much as they try and hurt and grieve

They don’t have the power to describe how they feel. 

But my ghost did say something to me before he departed

Back into the abyss of my telephone screen

And those three words, and my repetition of them,

Made one brick of my fortress break off, fall down,

And disintegrate into the lush forest green.


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