buried.

I buried my sword. In the ashes on my accord. I left it beneath the empty streets and the sudden acceptance that walking away is not defeat. I can't keep visiting ghost towns, because i know you're not a ghost. I can still miss you without getting a lump in my throat. I could feel the emptiness encroach , and i was fighting the wind with feathers in my coat. I was kicking up dust, i was blinded by hope. I was burning energy and bridges all for the sake of scratching the surface with broken glass of this piece of shit periscope.
I needed to see life eye to eye. I needed to return to that ghost town one last time, to lay my own demons to rest. Goodbye. I'm eating toast with honey and butter, there's crumbs on my chest. I know it's not your flesh. You can haunt me forever, i concede i'm a mess, but I'm standing tall now, the lone resident of this address. I've put down my weapons, and admitted success.
My ghost is now buried with my sword and love letters. My strength now comes from within, as my eyes blink like camera shudders. When i say i found myself you will not hear me st-st-stutter. I'm surround by life, emotion of all colors. My weapon is my heart, and the love from countless others. I buried my sword in the ashes where the embers no longer hovered. I cleaned up the blood from the wounds that took moments to make and years to discover. I buried the past as i reconciled there would not be another.