Sorrano K. Lovelace wrote:
> your ghost is standing in the doorway
> motionless, a glass figurine
> i can only hear my own breath
> haunted inside this empty house
>
> brushing slowly your granite-like hair
> strands of you fall off
> one by one until you are completely gone
> by the looks of everything
> tomorrow will be the same dream
> always drawing a little nearer each time
Beautiful. Good to see poems here again.
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