The Ghost That Carries Me

I don’t walk, I sway in silence, Like a coat left in the rain. You speak in rusted violins, Tuning sorrow into shame. The sky forgot your shadow’s weight, But I still wear it on my spine. You were the whisper in the doorway Now you hum in every line. I’m not alone, but I’m not free, You stitched yourself in every key… You’re the ghost that carries me, Through broken clocks and hollow trees. I sing in smoke, I dream in scars You drive my voice from wound to star. You’re the ghost that carries me Not haunting, no… just memory. Your footprints bloom in rotting stone, Where no one lives, but weeds have grown. I speak your name in shattered glass And time rewinds to what won’t pass. The bells don’t chime, they bleed instead. The choir hums what we left unsaid. My pulse is stitched to songs we burned But every echo still returns. You’re the ghost that carries me, Through all I lost and meant to be. A hymn inside my fractured chest A lullaby for unrest. You’re the ghost that carries me… And I don’t want to set you free.