Murdered

The woods are never solitary
They are full of whispering,
Beckoning,
Unfriendly life.

At the scent of a flower or
One glimpse of a path of moonlight
Lying fair upon a darkened trail,
The barriers crumble and fall.

Through the long corridors
The ghosts of the past walk -
Unfettered –
Hindered only by
Broken promises,
Dead hopes, and
Dream dust.

You said I killed you –
Haunt me, then!
The murdered do
Haunt their murderers,
I believe.

I know that ghosts have
Wandered on earth.
Be with me always –
Take any form –
Drive me mad!

Only do not leave me
In this abyss,
Where I cannot find you.