#ghostpoetry

Come, I beckon with scar speckled hands, Laughter caught between my lips and teeth and  Bright and wild in my eyes, Dancing, dancing- My feet know not where to land, for I have lost my form, I have become music, Irrepressible and without a name, Flitting through the trees and grinning as you follow. Tongue leaden in your mouth, Exhilaration a swirl of stars over your irises- Snatch me up and kiss me.

Contentment keeps creeping around my face, Rocks underfoot and shells pressed against my legs, Iced coffee at my lips, your voice ringing in my ears. There's a slither of heaven on this earth, and it exists pressed into you, Your salt sprayed skin,  Your steady soft touch, Keep me grounded and hold me. 

Here's a truth, my sweetling, my love, I do not lose myself when I lie here with you. I find myself, waiting, curled up by a fire, Drowsy and content and easy in my skin.  (And it's so difficult, for me) (To bear to you my back) And my heartbeat is exhilarated, stumbling on in a staccato tune, And my mind is calm, slumbering, You coax it into submission, You are becoming my home.

This is such a convoluted way to say that I love you.

...

In sweet contrast, you had mellow bones and a delicate mind, That yearned to be supple but was too breathtakingly thin. If you were pushed, you would just tear apart, Millions of fibres ripping away from each other. A gorgeous, quiet, break.  All you wanted to be was whole.

...

And that's how we made each other feel, wasn't it?  Unbroken and whole and veined with light, I remember how it felt to see you, that first time, my heart plaintive in my chest, How we lay down and stared and scarcely dared breathe,  And kissed,  Kissed, Kissed.

...

And you took on my mind You ran with its tormenting tongues until you understood, Then taught me, That my mind is not a beast at all, but a roving storm, bridging the divide between land and sea, Or the heavens themselves, gilded with lightning, Something exquisite, and magnificent, and worthy, Something to be touched, and held, and hallowed. 

...

But things that are exquisite, and magnificent, and worthy, Do not cope well with being left behind. They seethe, they rage,  They cut themselves from those who would leave them drowning.

...

Embossed skin and rich coffee eyes, That glimmered and invited and hid everything in clear sight. (shadows and smudges and comet-streak lines) Bright and Gold, Like sun struck bronze-

But no, no. That was wrong. Her eyes were often dark. Dark and crooning, soft with a lullaby, Draped in a tender mist. She moved with a stilted caution, nervous, She was,  Anxious not to misplace her touch-

But look, look.  Do you see? She changes again, (Though the beauty remains), Compulsive, she becomes animation, Hands askance, she moves beyond herself. Her thoughts become dandelion seeds caught by every breeze and her mind is a tumbled gem- Smooth and cool, riddled with imperfections that glitter in the light, Unassuming, brilliant in the palm, translucent-

(Hand to her the sun)

And she smiles, an explosion of light across every synapse-

(The sun)

She laughs, and I am wrapped up in the trembling folds of her voice, I flush at the medley, I am at ease in your happiness.