In the Shadow of Ghosts

I can hide from ghosts I know and with whom I am familiar, but it's harder when they are strangers. It's harder when they reach around corners and up through crevices I didn't even know existed.

 

They bruise me... these ghosts of ghosts, on top of places my own ghosts have left scars. They threaten new-skin coverings still fragile and pink. And scream in my ears that that my ghosts are right. I'm not good enough.

 

 I just nod in agreement hoping it will satisfy all of them.

 

I try to shine light on their shadows in an attempts to make them disappear yet they dart into corners and underneath other shadows like spiders chased into cracks and soon peek out again. The light too dim to ever replace them. 

 

They laugh on their way through my nostrils and as they dive into my lungs, smothering any breath of air I thought I had stolen or earned and they revel in using my gut as a punching bag. 

 

They are cold blankets on top of still wet memories and they are see-through fences between then and now, black and white, here and there, was and is. 

 

They constantly shove me from behind  and I smile as I fall forward  face bloody and broken.

 

-Gina