Old Houses, Old Ghosts

Old houses tend to be
Where we find
The old ghosts.
The ones who are tired,
Who wish to be forgotten,
And left by the wayside
To drift away from memories.
The whispers of the past
Float through the air
As phantoms amidst the cobwebs.
The old houses, with their old ghosts,
Are little more than history,
Their families long gone
With no record of their names,
Leaving a place with no identity,
Except that of an old house
Filled with its old ghosts.

Distant

It feels like we're growing distant,
And not just in the regular way.
I've always felt so close to you,
But now I fear you won't stay.
I wonder if there's someone else
Who's taking your heart away;
I trust you more than anything,
But I miss you through the day.
I feel as if I'm losing you,
And I don't know what to say.

Beautiful (2)

Oh, I wish I were beautiful;
The sort of girl who turns heads,
Holding attention as she
Enters a
Room.

Guys don't notice me;
I'm just a shadow,
Really not worth the attention,
Lacking what they
Seek.

Anyone can tell you,
Reaffirm
Everything I claim.

But you may not believe
Even though it's true,
And that's your fault,
Undoubtedly.
There's not a desirable trait in me;
I'm hardly adequate as I am,
For I'm not the one who's wanted,
Ultimately, I am not the one who's
Loved.
,
Brave folks say otherwise;
Under fake smiles,
They lie.

I am not beautiful.

What I say to you is true;
I have no reason to
Lie about this, to
Lie to you.

No one ever wanted me,
Even though some claimed they do;
Very carefully lying,
Even though I see straight through.
Real beauty is not mine.

But I'm okay with that,
Existing just as me
.

Growing (2)

I think that you are growing,
And I know that's good for you.
It's painful, and disruptive, and hard,
But I know it's what we must do.

You're learning some lessons
About you, about me, about love,
And I'm proud of you for learning them;
They'll help you rise above.

We both needed this,
This opportunity to grow,
And we'll both be better for it;
That much is true, I know.

It feels like the end of the world,
But I promise you, it's not.
I'm not yet ready to let you go,
Because you're the best I've got.

To You (1)

I guess this is sort of a letter
Written directly to you,
But I'm writing it as a poem
Because I didn't know what else to do.

God, I love you,
More than I believed I could,
And now what's happening hurts me
More than anything should.

It hasn't even been a day,
And already I want you back.
I suppose that's a good sign;
I'm addicted to you like crack.

I wish I could call you.
I wish I could hear your voice.
But I said I'd give it a week,
And I should stand by my choice.