Ghosts

You will not see us

as frost strips fingers bare.

This is a strange and shivering air.

 

You will not see us

in this darkening sky,

where rumours of shadows

haunt this crooked knot night.

 

You will not see us

as lips orbit skin

as bare as breath,

spinning with a frenzied grin

of sin and hair.

Beware

the freeze of ink in this writer’s night,

of hell and madness.

Prepare

for tonight we are ghosts.

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