Dec 2020
These are images that once were
The tan lines stretching across your shoulders;
Like starlight from some supernova;
Your photos in my albums;
Our shadows beneath bright suns;
Those ghosts have come and gone.
Then love became a memory;
And memory is the ghost
That frightens me the most.
The tan lines stretching across your shoulders;
Like starlight from some supernova;
Your photos in my albums;
Our shadows beneath bright suns;
Those ghosts have come and gone.
Then love became a memory;
And memory is the ghost
That frightens me the most.
If our sun died, we'd still see it's image for eight minutes. Ghosts. They are everywhere.
