talking to shadows.

people pass, a breeze ruffles the grass around my feet and fresh wind blows in my face.

you sit there, seemingly normal except for your eyes.

your beautiful eyes...

today's the day, my dove.

my Colm.



they said that you can hear us, if a bit faintly.

back then i thought, you poor thing.



you must think you're going crazy.

talking to us, with no one there.





they make fun of you.

"says he can talk to ghosts. belongs in the loony bin that one."



bullied, with no way to defend yourself.



all you see is shadows, after all.

our souls.

they say you're blind, when you're actually quite the opposite.

you're enlightened.





i think you like me, now.

you ignore most of the other ghosts, after all.

yet you talk to me.



you say you like my laugh.

that it's musical.

you're such a poet.

whoever marries you in the end will be so lucky.





i've told you again and again that i'm not real.

not alive.

but you won't listen.

you keep insisting that this is enough for you.

no need for human contact, kisses, and so on.





but you don't understand.

i'll be passing on soon.

to the next world.

maybe we'll meet again there.





so this is my goodbye, you darling boy-man.

i am not a poet like you, but i hope i made you understand.



and before i go, just remember that i love you.

i really do.

it feels strange saying it, since i've never really loved anyone in my living life—-or dead life, for that matter.

but you made me love.

even with my unbeating heart, you taught me how it feels to love someone and be loved back.

so for that, thank you.

thank you so much.





and with that, she kissed him on his tender, virgin lips, and for the first and last time, they were able to feel one another.

he opened his cloudy eyes and smiled as he watched her slowly fade away, into the next life . . .