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the next morning I couldn't even smell his hair on my sheets
after he had gone--
they're in and out faster than the last, and

this one was bony and frightened
of me like a wild animal and I tell him,
when he has been edging his skeleton fingers
just underneath my bra all night,
you can touch me,
I want you to.

but he can't bear it, and instead he blushes and
wraps his arms around me in bed.
he's never watched **** and I
pepper his chest with bruises that neither of us want and I
ask if he has ever *** in a girl's mouth
and he fumbles over his words,
and readjusts my comforter to shield himself,
from me.

I realize it and I tell him, I'm sorry, I'm a monster.
yes I've been fingered on park benches in public,
forced into sitting on a man's face and then into comforting him
when he realized what he'd done,
tied to this bed with rope and been ****** blindfolded,

and I'm, polluted, maybe, for that,
disgusted with myself, maybe, for that, but I'm

a monster because I've
sat waiting all night for you
to come home.
ummily May 4
As we grow up,
we become less afraid
of being haunted
and more afraid
of being heart broken.
I heard a ghost in my house today,
I told it to go away.
I guess this
is growing up.
sofolo Apr 21
You won’t see me when I enter. The crystals of glass
gliding past as I ride a sliver of moon glow

through your window and crumple to your floor.
You won’t see me when I rise and survey

the scene. A foreign body by your side. Books you’ll never
read. I slip a gossamer thumb into your slumbered

mind. Let me finger through your dreams. Taste you
from the inside. I’m not sure why I chose to arrive. But I’ll move

an object enough to leave a mark. And now, like before. You won’t
see me. I leave quietly in the night. The last thing you’d want

is an encore.
lua Dec 2022
fleeting feelings, fleeing when i arrive
'fraid of facing me and
my somber sobriety and violent sighs
the night stays by me all the time
when he, the sun, chooses to hide
fleeing just as i do, my footprints 'gainst the soil
squished soles in the marshlands of may
the remnants of me on mother's display
a whisper of rain befalls me, just as i fall
with my back towards the world
putting these fleeting feelings behind me
as i burn with the promise
of summer on my mind

and im sure
im so, so sure
a ghost like me
needs not to explain
my escape.
lua Oct 2022
the meadow watches me
eyes hidden in flower buds
while i run through the tall grass
chasing after a ghost
its blurry form shifting colours
like the sunset and sunrise
sweat drips
down my cheeks
maybe i'm crying
i can't tell, really
i just know that
my lungs breathe clean air
for the very first time.
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