I haven't written in forever. I think this forum is chirping with crickets, but if not, I love critique!

Sometimes the past lingers,
in the doorways
A stubborn guest,
that overstays.

I used to avert my gaze,
in fright, in fear
If I didn't look,
then it might disappear

But now it's time,
to stop playing pretend.
To go and make peace,
with an old, old friend.

My past was a skeleton,
of bleach-bone white.
And I shook its hand,
without any spite.

It tried to grab me,
and ask me why.
But I stepped away
and said goodbye.

I don't have to explain,
what drove me there.
The future is calling,
and I have much to hear.