It’s easy to love a ghost, hard to love a breathing soul.
But we try.
Hard to build a home from the ashes of careful memories stolen by the careless winds,
Growing fond of the cold and safe in the silence.
A stranger’s words dripping from empty lips stay the night for promises’ sake,
Returning with different faces.
Then, for no reason beyond a change in the weather or a penny found on the ground,
A stranger asks to stay.
Stories are slow and some pages lost,
As shy laughter finds its way into dusty corners.
Tears come and hands linger,
Weaving words on chests to keep warm at night.
Far beyond knowing the end of the story, tracing footprints made a thousand times,
We make it to the edge of the earth, and find it’s not so scary.
When the stranger tells me his name, I find I already know it.
I’ve known it since he asked to stay.
It’s easy to love a ghost, hard to love a breathing soul.
But we do.