Sepia Ghosts

Some people make better ghosts.

In life,
they rub the universe
the wrong way,
yet somehow
in death
all the qualities
that angered you
haunt you,
make their existence
a sepia melancholy
you wish they could have
broken away from.

You realize
too late
that everyone is the
of their own story.

That no matter how damaged
or pathological
their reasons,
they were theirs.
It made sense to them.

You can spend a lifetime
thinking back on a lifetime,
wishing they’d been more
like the protagonists
you enjoy,
but they were always
to themselves.
Or victims.
Or whatever part they
wanted to play…
ended up playing.

-GD Butler

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