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.