by Emma Freeman

Sometimes

I feel like a haunted house

full of ghosts wandering from room to room

searching for something they can’t find

lost

stuck in loops

set in motion by some moment long ago

when everything changed

and a broken record of longing was put into place

to play on repeat

over and over and over again

They endlessly wait and hope that somehow

if they just stay there long enough

in that lonely liminal space

someone will come back

who never comes back

or somehow that moment can be reversed

which can never be reversed

So the ghosts go on wandering in their endless circles

all day and all night long

on and on and on…