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She's a Ghost

Updated on February 17, 2014

The lover I dreamed of is gone.


Perhaps it was the bleakness

of the snow covered landscape.


But today, finally, I realized

the woman I loved is dead.


Acceptance they say,

sometimes comes slowly.


And truth be told

I should have known long ago.


For while the physical woman

still walks this world.


It is the one I loved,

who loved me, that is gone.



Said she would love me forever and I believed her.




Told me she would love me forever

could not imagine life without me.


But I think my love frightened her.

She'd never known its depth.


Her beauty and spirit paralyzed me,

like nothing I'd ever known.


My entire adult life

I had searched for someone like her.


Someone to fill,

an unexplainable void.




She was the lover of my dreams


She was my friend, and my lover for nine amazing years.

She made me laugh, she saw me cry.


It seemed so natural being her lover,

I never could think of her as just a friend.


I'm not sure if her death,

came suddenly, or ebbed slowly.


I only know I was very slow to realize,

maybe I chose not to recognize.


I will always believe, that we,

were at our best with each other.


But at last, I see, it's impossible,

to hold onto a ghost.

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    • therunningman profile image
      Author

      therunningman 3 years ago from Rhode Island

      Lisa, thank you so much. I'm happy you were touched by the words.

    • Lisawilliamsj profile image

      Lisa Williams 3 years ago

      This is absolutist beautiful, and oh so relate-able! It actually brought tears to my eyes. Thank you for this! I voted up!

    • headshrinker profile image

      headshrinker 3 years ago from Western Massachusetts

      We all follow our own paths. Your sense of loss is palpable in all your writings. She must have been quite special. I usually have a sense about these things and my gut tells me that even if she never is able to tell you, she probably carries you in her heart every day. I hope someday she tells you just that. Love the picture of the stream with the snow, beautiful and melancholy, perfect for the tone of the poem.