A haunting

Do I linger,
Like a bad memory?
A chill'd wind,
fingerlessly
Raking dead leaves
into mounds on the surface

Unwelcome, unwilled;
Are you bought to the plot
That you paved while I planned to sow.
I lie here with the seeds
now saplings starved for the sun.

Is there a headstone standing,
in the index of "others",
or is it left unmarked
only monumented under "mistake".

But these questions,
are formed on assumptions.
Pieces put together
which make sense in the dark

To be forgotten is mercy
To haunt is far worse
For I know I am dead
To live on as a curse