Words for Ghosts

Shadows dance quietly into the recesses
of my heart.
They cry for my attention
masking as affection.
And I’m lost.
Carried again with the apocalyptic words
that settle me
into the grass.
Pulled into pieces
I no longer
recognize.
I swell to the mysteries
of sentences
pressed against me,
separating pounds of flesh
as offering.
It’s not enough.
So I continue to
speak
to ghosts.

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