deepundergroundpoetry.com

memories don't mean that much to a ghost

 


I thought I saw
your ghost in the
garden last night

and in between
forgotten memories
of limp moonbeams
and dust,

the air smelled of
roses and
tears

as the rain touches my
skin like your hands,
your fingers,
your
lips

leaving scars where
a soul once
knew your
face

Written by buddhakitty
Published
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