Wait Capacity

Ghosted

by your own spirit,

soul stuck in a purgatory

until the facts are faced,

finally-

what then?

Lucid flesh like

apparition, unheard

and in between 

pain and suffering-despair

and the need to 

continue to breathe

cradling the heartbeat,

insisting endurance

and through it.

There was no There 

there,

carbon copies of conceit,

echoing

'I was here'.

Nothing gained

without loss,

as if grief gave more

than it took 

of Us

Distorted shadow figures

have mistaken

me

for empty.

Painting by Sergey Vinogradov, dated before 1938 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.