I tend to keep things that are given to me by women that I grew quite fond of. It’s kind of silly though sometimes I forget about them then one day I open a drawer to the physical embodiment of a forgotten ghost , that jumps clear directly through my soul. Leaving an invisible exit wound that conclaves my chest. I sit for a brief moment with thousands of little memory’s. Some beautiful filled with ecstasy lust and pure wonder , some bittersweet with dashes of lonesomeness for a time I wish I could go back too and talk to you differently. I then continue to wipe away my sorrows bleeding down my cheek and put this ghost away for a day that I cannot foresee