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Giving the ghost its shape

Your heels always hit the ground first and years later

thats how you learned how to run

you kicked up so much dirt that

the debris from your detour clings to your lashes

cradles your eyelids

you've become a whole new kind of transparency.

glazed and spaced, tell me when your shoes became the only thing

unlaced

tell me the next shade up in opaque and I'll superimpose you if it would make the slightest difference

in your distorted disposition

you're aware of your capacity of scarred composition but you say hey,

it's better than plain vacancy, well

I want to shake the coiled novas nestled between your temples so that the air

can be polluted with something beautiful for a change, I know that love

is just a futile prescription that you're immune to

but I still pray it's something

you'll get used to

I want your antics to stride past exposed bones so maybe I can pave

a fractured thought of my own

I want your second hand smoke

to inhale

a sweet exhale

of your mind, in the shape of O's that linger from tolks

this room is white like clean coke and

stained white with clean coke and

when I swallow so much shadow that I too

become a ghost, just know that I

am only malleable

but not the only thing you're able to

control

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Written by
natasha-velvet
American
Published
May 2, 2013
Lines·Words
30·230
Permission

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