Ghosts of Never Last

Charles Baudelaire wood engraving (1917), Georges Rochegrosse, Public Domain

Abandoned

‘Twas the love,
Perhaps not to be
But can I ever know, now,
In the gutter of self-betrayal?

A sweetheart…
A lover…
A future…

Gone

For better or worse,
Choices that define
And bend the space
Surrounding the heart
In love
Out love
(Perhaps in between)

I never said “I love you”
I felt it, i’m sure,
Hiding in the recesses
Of all the futures I saw
Where we could be
But alas…
I made a different choice
And all that remain now
Are ghosts
That sometimes come in nightmares
Just to howl at my moon of past
Wailing at those destined dreams

The ones to never last

Read more from Immanuel R. Knight

~ And Poetry After Dark