Floating on the Boundaries

How did it come about

that I have ghosts

who still live

floating on the boundaries

of my personal space

haunting me with past

memories

I’ve long since buried

why do they

poke through with their bony fingers

rattling their skeletal remains

to remind me

of the nights

I rode on trains

with vampires

armed with flimsy crosses

that always split in two

at the moment

of impact.

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16 thoughts on “Floating on the Boundaries

  1. I rode on trains

    with vampires

    armed with flimsy crosses

    that always split in two…

    cute and magical imagery, love the ride with you.
    Happy Potluck!
    😉

  2. A taunting look at fear; a disdain for baggage from the past; a longing to not only get off the ride, but to leave the park in which it spins. These are thoughts that ran through my mind as I read this several times. Am I even close? (I love a poem that makes me wonder.)

  3. “How did it come about
    that I have ghosts
    who still live
    floating on the boundaries
    of my personal space
    haunting me with past
    memories …”

    I often wonder the exact same thing … will they ever rest?

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