poetry

Pleasantly Haunting

This place is full of ghosts. They exist in the gloomy light of Corpse-coloured candles In those dark cottage walls, Lingering with a ghoulish fondness. I find myself drawn to remain also. Perhaps these melancholy ruins offer More than fear; They invite somber reflections- Reflections of the living as well as the dead- And I… Continue reading Pleasantly Haunting

poetry

Bury the Hatchet

Bury the hatchet, Or better yet burn it And scatter the ashes so far across the sea We stand no chance of digging it up. 'Cause I know you, You'll get bored and start looking. At least this way We can only stand on the beach And reminisce in what It used to be.