ghost boy

quiet.

a lonely, mournful silence.

reaping through closed doors

a whimsical violence

thunderstorms, sermons, old wedding rings

the macabre speaks

he stands solemnly

eyes wide, hands steady on his own epitaph

the ghost speaks

voice laced with aching fears, drowned out by the rain

he keeps calling to you

you wonder what he's trying to say

your face curling in confusion

panic.

panic consumes him, he's screaming but nothing comes out

he tries again 

run, run, run 

panic 

running, padding on the floor 

hands on the doorknob 

it's locked 

and you scream, but no one hears you, the rain drowns out the ache in your voice 

and there he is 

ghost boy 

with his dead eyes

standing outside, with the keys

he drops them

pities you at glance

and leaves with no return