by Bob W Christian

So many memories left here.
Photos – a snapshot of you.
Pieces of paper, scattered.
Your essence lingering on,
Haunting this old house.

Reading your scribbled words:
Always thought this moment
Would come without warning.
Waiting for the right time could
Take forever, you see.

We both know it’s been coming
For a while now. It’s not you, it’s
Me. It’s kept me awake trying to
Tell you. I’ve been scared for a
Long, long time now.

I can’t understand how we can
Forgive each other, for words not
Spoken until it’s too late, while trying
To move forward with our lives.
What would Social Media say?

How can someone be around one
Minute, then disappear? How do I
Cope with the disappointment of all
The things I didn’t accomplish?
It‘s best I go. All my love always.

The end, then? Or a beginning?
A whole new chapter in your life?
Left, wondering. Searching for
Clues. Will I ever know
The end of your story?

(c)BobChristianpoetry

By Bob W Christian

If this place could talk,
The stories it would tell!
Trapped within these
Walls for their eternity,
Gliding along corridors.

Pictures gathering dust,
Snapshots of the past.
This gallery of memories,
Life frozen, doomed to be
Repeated on an endless loop.

Voices call to me from
Empty rooms. Ghostly
Echoes from the past.
Whispers from beyond
My reality, now falling silent.

Memories, emotions,
Regrets. Forever
Haunting me.

(c)BobChristianpoetry

By Bob W Christian

Here we are again.

You.
Me.
The silence between us loud enough to rupture my ribs.

I call you companion because calling you monster
feels like admitting defeat.
Feels like saying you win.
Again.
Again.
Again.

You’ve given me so many nightmares,
I should be charging rent for all the nights you’ve made a home in my head.
I wake up sweating through the sheets
like maybe if I soak them enough, you’ll drown in the flood.
Spoiler alert:
You don’t.

Your memories play on loop in my skull,
like a cursed mixtape I never asked for.
And every time I press eject,
you just laugh
and rewind.

I thought I’d outgrow you.
Like acne.
Like imaginary friends.
Like bedtime fears and monsters under the bed.
But instead, you crawled into the bed.
Under my skin.
Built a goddamn shrine in my mind and lit candles for every time I tried to forget.

Aren’t I supposed to be a grown-up now?
Aren’t I supposed to be brave?
Aren’t I supposed to know how to lock the door to my own brain?
Because that’s where you live.
That’s when you thrive
when I’m alone
inside my own skull.

You’ve haunted me like clockwork,
never missing a season,
never skipping a visit.
We’ve grown up together, side-by-side.
Not friends.
More like…
cellmates.

I’ve tried evicting you.
Kicking you out.
Burning the lease.
But you always come back,
like a cockroach in winter,
like bad WiFi,
like me.

Still you’re my oldest companion. I’ve tried
Staying awake, hoping you’d sleep before me.
Tried drowning you – you’ve learnt to swim.

Always awaiting your return now.
I guess
this is what forever feels like
when you don’t get to choose who stays.

(c)BobChristianpoetry