Ghosts by Emily Possehl “Do you believe in irony?” I thought Watching our friendship stumble toward its end “That it’s the red fog in which we’ve been caught?” ’Twas the graveyard where I first called you friend There was something about sharing the fear That led us there on many a lost night Making us each to the other more dear As we relied on trust instead of sight But fear cannot be used to mend a heart Nor could it bury a torturous day Like rotten gray bones crumbling apart The love in your eyes began to decay And so it ended as life does with death; No proper goodbye, just one tired breath Page 97
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