ghost child

sometimes i miss it--
waking up to see you standing there in my room,
surrounded by the darkness,
your hair golden-white,
snowflakes frozen on your eyelashes,
...smile frozen to your face,
a frosty heat permeating from your body...
like cold breath on a winter day.
sometimes i miss that girl...
the way she used to haunt me,
lure me back to whence i came...
but most of the time,
(no point in lying)
i don't.

time to let go

jaded vines grow thick,
running up my spine,
black and green,
teal running to my fingertips,
drops of fear and anger tainting the blood-pool
(she isn't yours, or anyone's)
--out of control and 
frothing from the inside,
stretching, strangling,
suffocating and seething
(the voyage isn't yours to take)
--so let her go,
free-falling through the ashen sky--
the fall won't take her life,
the dive can't take her ambition:
her roots run deep and tangled
...she will always be grounded,
in her own sense--
she will always be grounded…
(she isn't yours, or anyone's)
…so let her go.