I used to be haunted.
You used to haunt me,
and I lived every day
in fear of your ghost
infiltrating my heart
and reminding me
of what I did
to hurt you.
I went to our park
two weeks ago
and I didn’t see
your ghost.
I returned on Saturday
cloaked in darkness,
and although the moonlight
was typically where
ghosts like to hide,
you did not
pay me a visit.
I have made new memories
in our park,
not because
I want to hurt you,
but because
that park is still
a piece of me.
And though I thought
I would never
be able to return,
I did.
I went back,
just yesterday,
to continue constructing
my house of memories
that you don’t have
the key for.
A house
I wasn’t sure
I could ever live in,
but now
feels more like home
than you ever
did.
Your ghost no longer
haunts me,
and as much as I thought
I would miss it,
I don’t.
In fact,
I don’t think
I miss you anymore
at all.
If you enjoyed this beautiful poem, check out another recent piece by Marin called “Guilt Trip.”
