I got used to the way
The wind in the chimneys
Sounded like ghosts.
You get used to all the things
That scare you
Disappoint you
Hurt you
When they’ve happened
So many times
Yet got no further than
The fright
The disappointment
The pain.
The same goes for things like
Love
I suppose.
You get so used to loving
That if it goes nowhere
You almost forget you do,
Until it shows it’s face,
And you remember
(Maybe too much).
The ghosts are like that.
I’ve gotten used to their howls
And it doesn’t scare me any more,
But if a face
Suddenly flew from the chimney
It would all come flooding back.
I got so used to being
On the edge of the circle
The end of the line
Almost a part of the conversation
But not quite
Feeling like I was there
But not at all
Like a ghostly sound
With no face to show.
Like I was the howls in the chimney
That everyone learned to ignore.
I got so used to
Pretending it didn’t hurt
That I almost believed it,
And I was always going to be
The hardest to convince.
But when the pain
Showed its face
Again
And again
I realised it hurt
And still hurts
A lot more than I choose to believe.
I’d just learned to ignore it
Like they’d learned to ignore me.
The pain wasn’t ever non existent
Although to them it may have
Seemed to be.
Neither am I.
I’m not the ghost they see.
(or don’t)
I’m just not sure how to prove it.
Lauren Kathleen 