The Moonlight Ghost

I feel a little of you leftover
A little of you still lingering
In each breath that I snatch
In each murmur, in each whimper
There is a little something, refusing to move on

Look at these memoirs written
The little locket in the drawer, forgotten
The letter never delivered
There is an impalpable sense of loss
Hanging in the air with the cold

Look how everything turned out
Exactly as you foretold
My oracle, my moonlight, isn’t Delphi a little far off?
Or was everything rehearsed?
The ripping out of this heart, along with the rest

And yet the ghost of you still haunts
This home, this city, this hearth
For if ever a fire is lit
And if ever a fireside story told
Your name comes up, without ever a deliberate thought

Through these ashes, you dance
In each crackle of the ember, in the silence that plagues
What phantom rolls in these sheets?
With sharpened claws and sharpened teeth
When asked its name, calls yours instead

At times I wonder if you existed at all
Or did I imagine you, in a drunken thought
Like a butterfly dreaming to be a man
Of each glimpse of yours, I remember
And every word you ever said

Your laughter still rings in these halls
Your bed is exactly as you left, pristine, untouched
Your memories echo in the chambers of this heart
A cackle of children hiding in the dark
Like a ghost come too sure of its subsist

So it haunts, and it haunts
Still holding on, refusing to move
Clinging onto to life, even as life has gone past
What else can shades do?
Those devoid of closure and bereft of love