Still

There are moments.

Where it doesn’t feel real.

Just surreal.

Nothing there

To call you home.

Still alone to ponder.

On your own

In loneliness.

Teardrops are falling

Ghosts keep calling

You

Back to that past

Experience

Where you’re bleeding all over again

With your friend.

Yet still.

So glad that you both

Still exist.

Because.

When the wing tips

Brush kiss

Your cheeks.

You’re left

Feeling golden

And at peace.

No longer haunted

Or aching with the memories.