Haunted Hours

I tried my best to scrub her out
From all the lanes of vaulted heart;
But who knows how the faded days
Come back through the mists of time
And with flashes of my past
Drown and flood my lonely trail
In those lanes that call me still
Through the secret wisps of night,
And light up darkened halls of soul –
Montage of my fractured frames.

I pounce upon the remnants all
And flush and burn them as I can,
Though the ashes flowing through
All the streams of laden heart
Merge and mix and churn in soul –
A darkened blot that will not go
But gnawing through my foolish heart
Leave me always maddened by
Restless ghosts that will not sleep,
Jangling iron-chains in dream
That makes me daily sweat and scream.