Six Feet Under Hallow Earth

I was a ghost,
baring a heart, hollow from death.
  

Buried under feet,
lying like the salt between us. 

I watch as winter passes. 
The stones I placed set a path to the trees,
now dusted over.

It's still dark here,
even when the clouds drift. 

It's still night here,
even after the moon has came and went. 

I hope the tips of the pine 
poke holes in the sky and let the light in.

I'll haunt until the day I die, waiting for the sun to shine.