Ghost is Me

I left immediately.
I didn’t dress.

I stepped out quietly,
A crayon like a violin,

An imposter of gravity.
The ghost

I left behind
I waited till now to name.

I painted lines in the street:

Love is
A bikini red sky in canvas
Shoes.

But the ghost,
The ghost is me

In the flip flops of the moon.

See to it your words are wingspan wrought.

And get us out of here.

4 thoughts on “Ghost is Me

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