These days, they make me feel alive. A mess of words and strange thoughts. A trial of snakes and ladders. Heaven comes crashing down as the waves of lost opportunity splash around our bare feet. She’s dangerous, but the best ones always are. A rose and a thorn between tightened fingers. So many lost lovers. Haunting in the dark hours as shadows roll down every lonely street you’ve ever walked. Everyone I’ve ever loved, doomed to be forgotten about as time keeps ticking away. You and me, lost in the storm. All those ghosts asking for salvation from within our bruised heads. All those lives we have changed, and the lives that have changed us. All those empty glasses of wine. Haunted by every promise that was never made, and by the nights that we left to rot without magic. This stupid heart of mine. These stupid dreams that persist, and this stupid belief that keeps shining even when the lights begin to dim. Romance in the scent of her curled hair. Truth and elegance, dancing like eyes in the darkness. The persistence of loss. Don’t let me fall without love in my heart. Somewhere there’s a place where we should be. A frozen lake. A state of mind. There’s a way of being that will let us drift to sleep without the fear of what will happen to us when we wake. It’s out there through the forests and seas. It calls our names in a voice that can’t be heard. So soft like your smile; so gentle like the tears you cry out of frustration. In these shells that we were born in, we beg so much to be freed. To breathe without the chains that bind us to history. Born not to destroy, but to taste something glorious and divine. There’s no space for hate. Loss and apathy caressed through weakness and fear. Reflections unclean. Echoes of you in the corner of the room alive with birdsong and a lust for living that can’t be denied. These days, they shift and sink and rise until nothing makes any sense. Haunted by what’s unseen. The past, immovable like a mountain. Secrets in the footsteps we leave without even knowing. Pieces of a puzzle that will never be made complete. The ashes of our souls, blowing in the wind beneath a moonlit sky. Through the leaves of the trees, we shall sing forever. In a billion midnight hours, we shall haunt them as they did us.