Lately, they'd taken to wandering the streets,

As much a ghost as those that haunted the graveyard they'd frequented

They city was still as Death, not even so much as a breeze to blow at the sheets

the old man's widow had let out to dry, mournfully scented

They leaned against their window,

Quiet but unnerved, their eyes darting about, spooked

And they flinched back at the sudden movement of the widow

Thrusting open her window, staring them straight in the eyes, as if in silent rebuke

At her mouthed words, they opened their window as well

What is it you're doing? She asked

'Trying to stop a force greater than I,' they sighed, fiddling with their untidy lapel

Ah, she murmured, her face a careful mask

That's tricky, there.

'Do you have something to say on the matter?'

Well... I'm not one to keep you from anything, but, remember, don't linger upon the spirits in the air,

for they care not, for no matter how much you beg, they remain apathetic to your heart being shattered

'Is that so? But, per say, what if I can't bring myself to look away?

What I can't help but try to fight for their souls?'

Well, then, all I can hope is that you find your own way,

And for each moment you linger, you will learn to move on, to heal back into a new sort of whole