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GHOSTS
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It seems my ghosts Are haunting you too. At dawn, I feel The familiar brush Of your fingers On my bare shoulders. “Do you get upset When we visit the house?” Pisces man - Swimming in opposite directions: Brutality/sensitivity, Knowledgeable/naive Controlling all and losing it Impregnable but vulnerable. How would I know smooth If I had never felt the rough? “Yes,” I answer. “What bothers you the most? Which memory is the worst?” I start to talk, but We know it all already, Dredged up in countless arguments. I change my mind. “Do you really want To talk about this?” “No, but if you do...” You’re still stroking me. We decide to leave the past. We are lying together In our special way By “special” I don’t mean Activity Of any kind. I’m talking about Relaxed, Drowsy Going-to-sleep cuddles - Our most intimate moments. If I were to lie With 1,000 different people Not one would hold me In quite the same way. Our habits forged Through years of practice: Optimum comfort. This particular dawn We talk in whispers Like teenagers With secrets. We are in a caravan And our children sleep here too. You stir And open the blind. Outside The orange sky is flushed With pink. The sun is bright On pale gold cornfields. Birdcall is plentiful. Today will be A brilliant day.