Days past haunt me with accusations of What if? Whispers in the murky depths of my mind, soft, slithering, sinister, reopen the wounds and remind me of my faults. Bad timing, wrong places, poor choices. I’ll never know what might have been. Yesterday steals the answers and leaves only questions.
I yearn for escape, seeking the light of another sunrise and the changing of the guard to chase yesterday away. With my head on my pillow, I dream of a new beginning without the burdens of my ghost, my yesterday. The new day comes, yet my companion still resides within.
Yesterday is invisible, a spirit without form. Still, it is always with me; it never fades. Yesterday is my ghost.
