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Moving past old hauntings

How can one embrace the future if one is still yearning for the past?

Alone, I walk past my old haunts, the bittersweet entangles. I can no longer recognize them with my sore and weary eyes. Still, I behold the visage of those I’ve chosen to abandon as I moan and ache in silence. They try to reach but I recede. My hands ascend over my head searching for something larger to keep me; the mundane, the mould away. My search persists. The haunts, all vacant; old reveries of memories held dearly no more; they persist, and like nails, they pierce through the skull like hellfire to the soul.

I behold it now, with no control and no vision, just subtle haunting sensation and scourge after scourge, I endure. More and more unsure of whether I’ve reached ashore, or still treading as before.

Nails are sinking in my head.

[From my series, Whispers To My Shadows]

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