The Ghost of a Broken Heart
(By Carrie Bergener)
In the void of half-sleep
I heard you at my door.
Your soft knocking beckoned me,
“Come! Like before.”
Yet in that recurring dream
I opened the door.
Empty stairs.
Not what I cried for.
With bowed head
I retreated to my room
Like the ghosts of every broken heart
That spend their time in gloom.
