Ghosts

Broken-
So fueled but with nothing but contrition.
Clock strikes. Strikes the hour. Strikes me down-
Down to a well.
A moment held in time- not completely lost-
But almost completely forgotten.
Small heavy bones set the stage for nonexistence.
A world set in Justice- so unjust.
Words set to peal the skin off my back.
Attack my heart from hindsight
-when it is weak and powerless-
Weak and powerless- but so tragically not forgotten.
I wish I where a Ghost.
I could carry on my nonexistence with a wholly forgotten heart
With a sting of contrition that I would carry through my revenence
It is what I deserve for wounding you.
I stitched your contusions with rusty needles
Dirty. Stained. Infected needles
-And although the bleeding had stopped- the swelling began.
Swollen hearts beat twice as fast.
Mine exploded long ago.