Dancing With Ghosts

I see you in silhouettes,
graceful and dream like, soft.
We speak in fluent memory,
singing songs of what we lost.
I remember you in sunsets,
taste you still in orange and yellow.
I tend to see you laughing,
love the feeling of your mellow.
I do not think of tainted times,
your hands around my wrists,
the fire of your breath on me,
I see you still in innocence.
Flirting with the deep blue night,
we were the desert in a storm.
The way your hands felt whole in mine,
how you made them feel warm.
I see you that way now,
cloaked in tender touches,
painted still like 5 pm,
the way my blood still rushes.
I see you every night,
your lips are bittersweet,
your skin is nearly tangible,
you swing me off my feet.
I wake bathed in morning light,
you never stay for day,
I grip the sheets I saw you in,
and watch you fade away.
This is my cruel punishment,
the karma I get most,
for living in my memories,
for dancing
with
your
ghosts.
-Brittany Rickard

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