They fill the room

These ancient creatures

They have no form

With “barely- there” features

He knows they’re here

All around his bed

He dare not open his eyes

He dare not lift his head

He  knows these ghosts

They are his own doing

They Amble  ever closer

Whispering and cooing

He takes a breath

Heart thudding in his chest

Locking down painful memories

Giving it his best

The ghosts disappear

One at a time

As he begins to release

These feelings of his

The ghost of hurt

The ghost of regret

The ghost of anger

All, no longer a threat

His ghosts, are real

If he allows himself to feel

His ghosts, all leave

As he goes back to sleep-


Copyright  © 2017 -Vivian Zems