Ghosted

Ghosted in the autumn when silence was my thing.  Close up, upon further inspection; call it introspection and being self aware isn't the bliss I'd think.  And I wait.  Just in case, an explanation rewards my patience but who am I kidding?  I can be stubborn to my own demise and its no surprise I'm alone.  And the disguise is laughable when the loneliness is palpable.  And I wait.  Something better in me; a resurrection.  Give me three days to apologize.  Prop up my sincerity for the sake of perception.  If that's what it takes to reverse this hole you left as you slipped through the walls of my life.  And I wait.

Maybe it was one sided.  I'm okay with the self-absorbed.  Between the Hallejuahs and thank you Lords, the golden rule becomes double speak.  Things I love, like minds and mystique, become rest stops to some twisted kingdom I seek.  And I wait.  Just in case, you cared for me beyond the chicken soup I sometimes served.  The praying kind isn't always concerned.  Small talk was never our thing.  How's the weather, the banal think.  And I wait.  In banality.  

 

Highs and lows.  Some bi-polar parrot repeating my thoughts.  The autist in me still has undeclared wants.  Cocaine and narcolepsy.  I'm awake.  I'm asleep.  Silence was always my thing.  Hands like a fist, throwing hopes at the device I hold.  Words come to me on this inhumane screen.  Tell me where the ghost of autumn was last seen.  And I wait.  Just for noise.

Came to terms I am someone you don't want around.  Change the furniture to make room.  The flowers of December won't fully bloom.  Just in case, I wait.