I died when you would not be mine.  Like a ghost I could no longer get a grip.  I still cannot grasp the grave space you left behind.  I hover there.
I make sounds to others until they scream.  I rot but I have not aged.  I am still seventeen when I died and did not realize it.
My soul can’t find the door out of my heart.  Won’t find.  Refuses to find.
If you curse me I could be free.
I still don’t know what I was to you.  I refuse to hear.
Loving you can not be the curse, can it?
Ghosts demand answers they cannot hear.
What is it in me that won’t let me go on?
After all this time we are strangers again from yet another life.
How could you have been such a bright light?  In my dark mansion I am still blinded.

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