Ghost
I can stare through my skin,
See my fickle blood flow,
My muscles taut, pulling hard
On fragile bone and weak ligament.
Yet I see my skin AND through,
Pale discolored, wrinkled,
Lines of work and wear and toil,
It yearns for something, I feel it,
I know its desire–it wants love,
To hold HER–the enigma woman,
A million names and shapes and likes,
Few reaching out not for me but out,
Raspberry taste–cooling lips of satin.
I know the names, I whisper at night,
Yet never do I fight the lover’s fight,
I let them pass like the shadows
That accompany me and listen,
Hollow words and hollow eyes–a mirror,
And when I stop and feel myself,
My lungs ache, my brain burns passionately,
And I cannot feel my heart,
I feel but space and diminishing time,
Invisible somethings flowing ‘cross me,
And the noise around me makes a sound,
All in vain, I hear not,
These words hold all my attention,
The world’s colors gone, I see not,
And for all the wanting in my misery,
For all the need for perfect love,
I sit in silence of apathetic pity,
And wait for my body to rot,
I feel but I feel not.
very good,brad;)
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