‘Twas your ghost
to secure the promise,
that you would not commit
yourself to the story.

An island sin
confronts the sea
of tears. Was it an
emotional ****?

Did you hear the
sound of moon? It has
come down in the space
where we used to cross the arms.

That was my raw poem.
I had mentioned your solemn
departure. I don't believe
in blaspheme. God would know.

Fever for no misdemeanor.
We walk away on our
different paths.