The Long Haunt

It has been quite a while my friend. I have been afraid to talk to you. You to whom I do not lie.
My pen has been quiet, it has been tempted to speak in the drama that so pervades this world.
My pen hesitates, I am afraid that it too might have been tainted. So I have been waiting my friend.
Waiting for the right time- though it has been quite a long time, it is worth it if the words are honest and true.

I want to be honest about how far I've fallen and true about my broken heart.
Oh how long will I remain a phantom, not really belonging to one realty or another?
We haven't spoken for so long and yet our conversation sounds the same.
Yes, I know, it's my fault. Always my fault- because I always know better. Always.

I am wise with all the answers. Wise with what is good. And yet I choose not to. Do I choose the darkness
just to know that I am alive? That I exist? That I am not a puppet in some cosmic script?

I wish you were flesh and blood my friend. It would have been nice to share the path with a pure and steady soul.  But it is better this way. This friendship works because only one of us can be tainted by the world.


....



"For us, there is only the trying. The rest is not our business." - T.S. Eliot