Ghosts

I can gaze into these windows 

and I'm met with the curious expressions of ghosts,  

shadows of our former selves

and though I'm gripped with this feeling that

I know these faces,

Something whispers in my ear

they are not you

and you are not them. 

Are these windows mounted in walls

so high 

and so thick 

that I'll never be able to break them? 

I feel these ghosts in the windows are memories

or maybe they're parts of old souls

tired, worn, broken --

but that Thing

beckons me away from the glass

and now I can detect its foul breath 

raspy voice

telling me to

Wake.

Up.

I have been summoned by the daybreak

and I stumble through this semi-conscious haze

with those ghosts lingering on my mind

but as most dreams tend to do

they too will be 

Forgotten.