Ghost

I want to be the ghost in your world that lives in the warmth of a blanket

 the slides around you as you watch TV

 

The soft caress of the fibers as you feel that is the rise and fall of my chest

 and encompassing soft embrace of my arms

 

I want to be the ghost that lies next to you in bed, as you toss and turn

Rolling over to look for, expecting me to be there

sleeping soundly next to you 

And isn’t

 

A burned hot flash of ash on a wall of your memory that for a second incorporates itself into your living world of your bedsheets. 

 

I want to be the ghost who you feel 

in the cool tingle on the back of your neck 

when you step out of the shower 

 

That tingle, my lips saying good morning,

before I step into the shower after you

and evaporate from your existence 

 

I want to be the ghost in your world who’s only scientific evidence is a  

soft exhaled groaned Fu because the explosive CK

When you whisper

Fuck

 

Who you’ll send out teams of investigators

to capture my presence in the sound of 

the thud

your jaw will make when it hits the floor

 

I am your ghost

Better felt in the aftermath of your mind

Than

Loved

In Reality

 

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