I was about to write a poem<\/p>\n
About you<\/p>\n
But I got distracted.<\/p>\n
In this poem<\/p>\n
You were a ghost that came into my life<\/p>\n
At the very moments I needed you most.<\/p>\n
You were a ghost that haunted me<\/p>\n
At the very moments I needed to move<\/p>\n
Forward from the spirit world<\/p>\n
Into this horrible reality.<\/p>\n
You being everything I needed<\/p>\n
That was also killing me –<\/p>\n
That was the gist of it.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
No one in your netherworld<\/p>\n
Knew of my existence or that<\/p>\n
You had this obsession with me<\/p>\n
And my well being.<\/p>\n
No one in my real world<\/p>\n
Believed you were flesh and blood<\/p>\n
And now I see you most certainly<\/p>\n
Are not that to me<\/p>\n
Anymore.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The ghost with hair black and flowing<\/p>\n
As if contrails<\/p>\n
All about the ceiling<\/p>\n
As I would lie dizzily in my work-sleepiness.<\/p>\n
The ghost with her disembodied voice<\/p>\n
So like fingers along my spine,<\/p>\n
Playing melodies as if my bones<\/p>\n
Were a viola.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The ghost who haunts rooms she has never<\/p>\n
Inhabited when alive.<\/p>\n
The ghost in the music that comes to me<\/p>\n
When I am too weary to do anything<\/p>\n
But listen.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
There were whispers of me<\/p>\n
That floated like a scent<\/p>\n
That were sniffed out through the brimstone<\/p>\n
In your netherworld<\/p>\n
And the pitchforks rose up<\/p>\n
To eradicate me.<\/p>\n
You removed all scent of me<\/p>\n
From your place among<\/p>\n
The world where I do not,<\/p>\n
Must not<\/p>\n
Exist except as a boogeyman<\/p>\n
Who will steal mothers from perfect children<\/p>\n
As they sleep with their windows open,<\/p>\n
Pretending their opened arms<\/p>\n
Accept.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Typing this out with my pudgy fingers<\/p>\n
As more slender fingers<\/p>\n
Somewhere closer to you<\/p>\n
Build you structures,<\/p>\n
Construct toys to amuse you<\/p>\n
As my pudgy fingers, fractured mind<\/p>\n
Only bring you angst.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
You are the ghost.<\/p>\n
I am the man.<\/p>\n
You have your world<\/p>\n
And I have mine.<\/p>\n
When I close my eyes<\/p>\n
I will see you tonight.<\/p>\n
You are welcome in my world<\/p>\n
That can never merge with yours.<\/p>\n
Someday<\/p>\n
I\u2019ll write about it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
John Tustin I was about to write a poem About you But I got distracted. In this poem You were a ghost that came into my life At the very moments I needed you most. You were a ghost that haunted me At the very moments I needed to move Forward from the spirit world […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":58,"featured_media":0,"parent":17,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-116","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry","clear"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/116","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/58"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=116"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/116\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":782,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/116\/revisions\/782"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/17"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/euphemism.illinoisstate.edu\/17-2\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=116"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}