Saltburn

I’m paying for the sins

of someone who’s supposed to be a ghost

but you just won’t let her fucking die.

Even as I stand here

in front of you

alive and willing

yelling “life is for the living!”

You prefer to creep, belly first

along the damp soil of her grave

in a dilapidated cemetery

bearing her tombstone, adorned

with flowers left by

every suitor she let fill her

in your absence, in your distance.

You couldn’t even place me

if you tried

but I’m there, still

outside the gate

waiting for you to realize-

There’s a soft bed, warm food

and a loving embrace at home

But it doesn’t matter…

you’d rather roam the night

for the ghost of torment’s past

Maybe I shouldn’t judge so harshly

Because it looks like- I might-

Be another to stalk cemeteries of my own

I mean, I’m already here

Waiting for you, with the pulse

heart beating hard and steady

still out of tempo with mine

and what a waste of free will it is

to pine over something

that isn’t yours

and doesn’t want to be

when you could be free instead