| mimesis | ||
| klarity |
Why. It hurts to hear those words. It was much easier, sometimes to just forget about the weak connection, that I made, up in my head. So he is untouched. Doesn't matter anymore. All I had with him was untouched. But being me, I couldn't touch. I wanted to believe the ghost. I wanted that ghost on my shoulder to touch by looking me in the face. I wanted the ghost to sit from afar and admire. And I wanted to say that the ghost was mine. That would be gorgeous. And I wanted to feel talented and pretty and strong. I latched to that ghost on my shoulder. And opened my eyes for a second. And I saw him watching me. I somehow blended the ghost's likeness with his. Wrong. The ghost doesn't fit his face, even though I called his name when it appeared. The ghost is not there now. It's just a bright hot morning with the sound of people getting on with their day. The ghost is not mine. He is not the ghost. Mistaken again. Why. |
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