I can no longer feel your ghostly hands.
I wish I could tell which one of us is disappearing.

It's lips of lead, that will be our greatest mistake.

You said to forgot you once that key turned in the door, stubbornly I choose to keep you close. No longer in arms reach, but tucked safely inside my heart. Sown into the fabric of every passing day. A place to retrace the steps that I never wanted to forget. Even now, that you have choose to not remember the feeling. I promise to never let the ambers go dark. I'll keep that warmth, and remember your soft embrace.

The words she said then,
Settled somewhere deep at the time.
I find myself now,
Tracing any path to feel them again.

From the lips of a frost bitten heart, the sound of self isolation is heard. Never searching to find hands that fit theirs.
Only seeking strangers hearts to fill thier own. Swallowed innocent and still beating with curiosity. Passing along the emptiness, forever leaving the best kinds of love in books and movies.

It should be a room covered with pages of poetry, one for every day that I've been in love with you. Scattered all across our sheets, the floor, and our dresser. The room should be softly lit, by white Christmas lights draped around the ceiling. It should be so intimate, that as you step inside, you should feel each word coming alive. Each feeling resurfacing, every kiss, and all my love.
Forever.

I've finally realized that all these words were never meant to make you feel special.
I only used your ghost over the years to calm mine. Now that the ringing has finally stopped lovely,
so can you.