Longing- like clouds in a jar

I read my life in the lines on my father's face,

They remind me

that all my ghosts are with me

except him

I walk with them to sleep

a torn black hem for everyday

for each a thimble kiss, I keep

We catch each other rarely

we haunt each other’s thoughts

A handful of nearly

getting back to ‘could’

before the drip drops

and I am back in that hallway

white tile, white wall

three doors on the left

and my feet caught between

now I know

some ghosts should take their leave

let me sit alone for a while

remember my grief

and others, I bid them slip

into the abyss

and lose their way a bit,

inhabit their remiss

many victims of my own self-realized

rebellion- a royal of the Rubix cube soul

twisted and turned

forgotten and found

until once again

as though always

I am

‘should’