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Ghosts

It never truly unthreads-

the fabric of a love that levels you.

After years of no sight

and I almost think

it's all gone.

I fall asleep

on an ordinary night

and there you are

clear as day

blushed cheeks, laughing.

Talking to me as if

we never, ever stopped.

 

Moving as if

I still know how to handle you.

 

Morning comes and I am

10 years older

and the days of my mind

unfold all of the hours I've grown

without you.

 

All the homes I've lived in

between ours-

tending flowers

washing dishes

filling bathtubs

making love.

 

Who am I to say

that the long sleep of our conversation

has not been divine?

 

Who am I to say we didn't plan it this way

long before we knew how to speak?