Poetry · Writing

haunted love

where did you go;

the days creek by

following whispers of ghost

sheer cold keeps me still-

yield.

they’ll follow me-

they’ll follow me ’till

i become them

until that day,

i’d like to spend them with you,

the last swish of quill

before the creeks settle in

tomorrow night i’ll be back

with the brief moments of silence

waiting

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