27 Ghosts

Another year has come and gone.
Though I have grown older, instead I, the lioness-crab feel wiser.
I trace the lines on my tears and remember all the pain I felt, how I feel apart in my mind and heart. From a haunting end to start, all I can do is remain focused on displaying the writings of my heart.

Everyday. I can mostly still see her silhouette in the sun, like the touch of a breeze on a most perfect of days. I can't help but wonder why things have to come to an end when my only desire is for it not to end. Like an immortal trying to reach out to the otherside, I must except not being seen but sensed. Whether you except it or not, I am still here.

I still bleed and trickle down the front of your white dress with messy distress. I am still very much alive, I see red, though you may choose to see me as dead. A sound penetrates aloud that would frighten anyone to a sitting up stance in their bed. A most torturous, mortifying sound, thumps in my head. Here I ascend in myself, in my dear love. I will not let her slip away.

I touch my skin. I am still here. A tear drop, one single tear drop is all I can spare if I am to survive for deserts of time for more then a single year.
One tear drop continues to fall every day to pay dues for my burden, that I have chosen to carry along the way. It will not go away.

The truth in time has revealed itself to me in a mysterious form; so many that I have loved have gone astray, they have not even picked up the phone to wish me well on my special day. I will linger around them, like a memory that you can not forget. My face will remain their constant beyond my dying days. I will cross the river when my time has come to row away.