ghost

When did you become this?
A ghost, or less
Drifting through life in a
surreal dream
of floating limbs
and disembodied
flowers.
The colours keep fading
and you convince yourself
they are bright
and pulsing
But you're looking through
other eyes
Eyes that barely see you
and pity
what little they see.
You hold images
in your head
And somehow they've become
more real to you than you.
Sipping the apple juice
convinced it's wine,
you
grow giddy on it
all.