Neighborhood Ghosts

Neverland is not second star to the right and straight on till morning, but here;
Etched by pebbles on yellow brick road, our childhood is memorialized
In a place that is only ours in dreams. Reality welcomes the

Gullible successors who have inherited this land-
Here, so that the laughter never dies, to remind me of what is no longer mine.

But do our descendants know that house is haunted? Do they see the ghosts perched
On my shoulder, all of them shaped like you?
Resting in bed, do they see visions of snow and empty ballrooms and a lost princess?
Hear the pitter-patter of a canine familiar chasing death around the coffee table?
Open the window to welcome the siren Lorde’s liable lullaby?
Or will they make our mistake? Will they live in blissful ignorance, being welcomed home at the
Door where we were forced to say

Goodbye, eating where two broken souls debated
How to bid the world farewell, sleeping in the place where you dreamed and I hoped?
Omniscient exile that I am, I can only watch as our past is buried beneath their present.
Stolen land this is, but I will not stop them from raiding the pixie dust storage houses.
Take it all, juvenile pirates.
Soon enough, you too will be overthrown.

Meily Tran (she/her) is an incoming college freshman from Southern California. Most of her works are first drafted at 1 AM and are inspired by her tragic sapphic love life, sporadic identity crises, and beloved pet chihuahua. Twice a week or so, she rambles on twitter at @tran_scendence.