Consoling Ghosts - This Town Needs Guns

I want to write

But don’t quite know why

What would I read if she replied?

Would she confide

«Had it not been for my suicide

I’d be happy I’m alive, and in my life»

Meet me behind closed eyes

Guilt trip unstitch habit

The planned pattens of blankets you knit

Doomly looming a net

From the catch of attachment you protect

Unfurl this thread

A permanent result

For a temporary fault

I’m left haunted by the thought of your remorse

Sometimes at night between the creased sheets of my mind

Neuron pathways will trace

My memories of the features of her face

In it I’ll place her voice

To offer these words to her English boy

«Your misery is a choice»

Sometimes at night between the creased sheets of my mind

The dead come back to life

And provide advice

Consoling ghosts

Your dreams are the needed host

To talk to those who were once close

Goodbye