Ghost – [Poetry]

You don’t know this about me,

you flirting, busy bee,

but I’m hurt by the ghost you’ve become.

Haunted for years by shallowness,

not that you are, but I’m so distressed

by the ephemeral fading you’ve done

in my life as a picture, out as a memory.

Back in again, posing so charmingly,

far from my lips, a spectral self-dismissed.

Perhaps your tease is punishing me

for ruining the first date so ignorantly.

No apology could summon that could’ve been kiss.

I’m aching, but not complaining.

Your beauty constant is reigning.

So haunt and prove you don’t need me.

My reflections affirm the needed solitude

before loving with a confident attitude,

and the attentiveness you deserve, busy bee.

So ghost shamelessly, dear.

You deserve the best.

I’m sorry you met me

at my pitiful worst.


More Poetry

Prose of the High Priestess

Blind With My Flesh – Judicium

Distanced

Confidence


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