ghost writer

the ghosts creep up on me
with their stories and their feelings and they pull at me
they whisper in my ears
thinking i may have forgotten the fear in the past
the ghosts sneak up on me
with new disguises and voices speaking codes
but i am learning to find them
stealth moving down the hallway of my heartbreaks
the ghosts try to stick band-aids upon wounds cut and recut
spilling invisible blood upon a newly mopped floor
the ghosts beckon me to walk beside them
revisit graves and dig up past mistakes
to lay out the bones and distinguish cause of death
the ghosts urge me to turn within and sit a spell
find a moment for self reflection
as they feed upon my ability to forget