ghost prints on the tunnel walls

I miss how the tunnels of your mind
used to intersect with mine
the reality of your hands in my head
so much grander than the slow inhale
of my frozen water life

I could be anything in your eye light
blue crashing against blue
pale hands everywhere
and nowhere all at once

I walked in two spaces
on sunburnt sidewalks
dreaming of your wolfish winters
raw limbs outstretched before a fire
baking themselves back into being

I slide my broken toes into
pink knitted boots
and they almost feel like your ghost
sliding up my bare legs
with empty promises and a hint of pain
always with a hint of pain
because empty words
make the heart beat the fastest
with wanting
... wanting what the heart can't have

These snowless days feel familiar
to the aching soul
I always hated the summer

© Indie Adams 2021