We buried him beneath the oak
He always liked it there, with the tangled roots and yesterdays spilled wine
I think it was warm
I can't remember now – my hand against his wrist was ice
Fingers trailing soft lines of blue and frost.
I saw his ghost again last night and wished it away
What is dead stays dead and I don't want him haunting me.
Oak leaves blew and fell and died in musty earth, passing
I avoided the hill and its tree and its secret
Walking the lower fields and watching the sky for signs of fire
Met instead with white and burning winter
A shock to a mind steeped in autumn
I would have thought it'd stay forever – stuck in his season
He never let me out of his sight.
I hated him then and hate him now – but I am naked without his eyes.
A winter moon hides the stone in drifts of silver
There is no movement, no breath of wind, no change in pattern
I saw his ghost again this morning
I stayed still, crouched beneath the frozen pines
And with a cry and stumble felt his eyes and knew
He wasn't looking for me.
But I buried him myself, muscles straining in frustration, battling the earth
It didn't want to take him
But I fed him to the soil like a poison
Hoping he would stay
Hoping the figure at my side uttering a prayer would leave us and forget.
I don't know what she prayed for but it overrode my own
So I'm haunting him as he haunts her
Winter screaming a reminder I'm alive
I saw his ghost again last night and wished that it would stay
What is dead stays dead and I don't want him haunting me
But better me than her and if I can't escape so be it.
I'm running, twisted, lost in snow
And I buried him in autumn.
A/N please forgive the spacing...I've gotten tired of the usual tricks we play on this site to hold a space.