What Really Haunts

What Really Haunts

~Miss A

Here, right here, can you be there?

Where you were also supposed to be...

Of course, you wouldn’t. Being lost with the essence was always your thing

It hasn’t been scary out there without you or anything

But this place feels so weird, take turns and gasp, in relief of your absence

Yet there fine set of eyes won’t stop trailing every outline of edge of your presence

Visualizing the scene that once were existing

Pouring heat up inside, knowing my own actions are bit embarrassing

And I could embrace all of it without any issues

It’s all okay; I’d only be troublesome if the expressions remain, the dues

The dues I keep tracing in the expectations of your image is a bit disappointing

Trying to be calm and being caught vulnerable, is quite harsh but I’m ravishing

That’s how it’s been. Wishing you happiness all the way that ever I could see

To see that the right curves are there in the smile, the real one I believe

And at the same time being haunted at the thought

Of a waving hand, loud as it’s calling your name out

And I’m broke and that’s how I’m back here

Into what I could afford, a couple of cheap drinks

That’s how we’ve been, that time then and there

Meeting you again on this road would be expensive, I’m on my brink

So please find yourself something that suits you better

I’m too bad to take my departure from here, gets me up, I’m a mad hatter

Help me not introduce yourself up my front, my attention dare you draw

Are we strangers yet? Can we pretend like it? I don’t even know

If by some misfortune, you as broke as I’m doing

And you are dragged here, unaware of yourself fumbling

Would you wave again? Or would you join as always

Would it take you by surprise? Or would be you be you ... some habits stays

I been doing perfect on my own, could I ask you not to ruin

Because more than anything, your voice haunts in my head as it twin

Twins every word that you’ll say next, the dialogues you come up with

The phrases the sentences and everything, I could hear with the breeze within

But the lady singing acapella today is nice, dressed in white brew of satin

Grasping on the parts, you’d love to hear, accents perfectly like the Latin

We’d love to dance our new formed styles of salsa, hearing the beautiful sound of strings

In the nights so ablaze with the moonlight, and fogged up streetlights, and heart strings

And yet after some much of time, the modifications here not absolutely none

The payer gets paid and everything moves with the likes, staying in sets as done

Telling the one at the fault aren’t them, for the uncertain wind of cold

Decoy of vanity don’t seem to roam in the wilderness either, they’re bold

Explaining, pieces of exhibit stay the same for real, the perceiver’s views are the reservoir

But actual artistic aspects could be perfectly determined by either the damaged or the destructor

And to categorise me in one, I’m not sure, which one I’d fall under, demonstrating what roles

I could be a judge, who sees both aspects and sides of hues and undertones

And looks like I have seen the land of beautify and friction and spring

I’m now bent in the hollows of haunted, winter and loops of hallucination sprinting

What really haunts?

It’s the knowledge of presence of the absence

Fearing the presence

And disliking the absence

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