The ghost of myself
Is haunting
My life

All the choices I didn’t make
All the roads I didn’t take
All the things I haven’t said
All the lives I haven’t led

The son I never had
The life I never lived
The wife I never met

So many lives
We miss
Only this one
Do I miss

I miss the garden
Behind the fence
Little gate creaks

I am careful
Not to tread
On wild flowers
Warm blue
Air hums

My vision is blurred
By the sun

I push forward

And there is my bed

And I’m so tired

Blue, blanket

My vision is blurred
By my tears

Curled up
Inside my mother’s memory

I wake up
And I write this down

This is the first poem I ever wrote, in June 2021, at about 2am. It just came out of the blue and I haven’t stopped since…

“Now, nearly 2 years later, I’m still writing it…”