Whistle of the Past

This one give me a lot of mixed feelings, all besides the actual suject matter of the poem. In short- don't know know if I like it. I like parts of it, and the way I wrote it out, I suppose- it's a very delicate subject, really. Most of all though, I couldn't decide how to structure it physically. Like the spacing and the punctuation. I try not to get caught up on that, and for some reason on this one I do. So, I chopped it up, spaced it, changed it entirely- and then I put it back. :]
enjoy!

That impossible destination
that far off place
so far off
so long gone and forgotten
It seems behind me now
not draped in front of me
not blinding me,
tripping me-
bringing me down.
Of course, when I turn
and I face it-
eye to eye
I glare and I shiver
and all my hatred I pour into this shadow-
all my loathing.
But I see only a smile
a grin and a silent eye
and a faint hum
or maybe a tiny whistle.
But by the time my eyes find the lips
seeking their round shape
their shrill vibrations
to see, to hear the tune
and its place of origin
I'm facing forward
the song in my ears
emptiness before me
and a shadow behind.