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Loud Ghosts
I can still feel ghosts of your arms around me
Whispers lingering in my ears
A finger tracing my collarbone, a shadow caressing my cheek
Invisible lips hesitating before mine
Echoes of a heartbeat bouncing off the basement walls
Footprints of empty shoes on the faded, dirty carpet
And toothless, mouthless smiles so loud I can't hear my own voice
That's what fills this empty, shallow bucket of a room
My ears are brimming with your ghosts
And I can never sleep
Has a solemn tone, but also
Has a solemn tone, but also some nice lingering auras.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "