Literature
KISSING GHOSTS
In the Night I see her, an angel of stone
and feather casting a pale illumination
over my grave, upon her cheek tears linger
a vulnerable stain, how I wish I could kiss
them away and taste their poetry calligraphing
a wish, just one absent-minded wish to be
loved, over her impenetrable nude she wears
a weave of spiderwebs, I see the nightmares
that hide in their gossamer folds, beckoning
the Dark's many collectibles into her shade,
but her soul is wet with secrets, her eyes
are hollowed out by deja vus, her lips bleed
from being too tightly sewn shut, but oh how
I want to love her quietly-silent and spectral
-how my groin aches