Ghost Of My Lost Lover

Ghost Of My Lost Lover
© Surazeus
2025 10 31

Haunted by absence of people we love, 
we disguise our souls with stereotypes 
of people who existed in the past 
so ghosts of our ancestors cannot find 
exuberant homes of ephemeral faith 
where we teach children how to play themselves. 

If paper angels hanging from roof eaves 
sing heavenly hymns of ephemeral faith, 
bats may flock from huge abandoned warehouses 
and transform into children with snake teeth 
who want to understand math formulas 
for calculating games that increase wealth. 

Dressed as Saturn with sea-electric eyes, 
I walk black asphalt street among tall oaks, 
bare feet squishing thin orange leaves wet from rain, 
to catch shooting stars with death-wrestling hands 
and turn them into shadows in dark rooms 
where faceless people talk to photographs. 

Aware of every soul alive on Earth, 
I walk toward white rectangle glow of light 
to talk with sparrows in meadow of skulls 
who understand assignment of the queen 
to feed every child hungry for respect 
who gathers wings of angels from wet grass. 

Beneath black metal skies of rippling thoughts 
we wear stiff plastic masks of long-dead gods 
to harvest red clouds from silver trash cans 
while Death walks beside us without sharp scythe 
to wait before locked doors of the white church 
where blind Rapunzel in the dark spire sings. 

Sharp fever of poisonous flowers swirls, 
buzzing from empty mirror of dark void 
where Cain asks Persephone for the time 
though she hides behind purple velvet drapes 
to kiss grim murderer of the silk-white moon 
while Jengu tends her wounds with gentle care. 

Green raven wearing crystal mask of fate 
consumes despair from hands of lonely kids 
who hide harmonious stars in grumbling books 
when blue spotted deer with attentive ears 
leads them over white-stone bridge veiled with moss 
toward faces of mothers floating in clouds. 

I look around for ghost of my lost lover 
but see cries of desolation in jars 
floating on river of abandoned boats 
because our souls echo in city wind 
mocking the fool who crowns himself world king 
since we all vote instead for Melusine.