Monday, November 10, 2014

Your ghost

You can scrub off all your skin but not your marrow.
Some resonated hope till you whispered doubt into my bones.

So when I packed up all my things,
it never felt like I was leaving.
It just felt like falling to the ground while you kept running.

Sometimes I have this conversation with your picture. 
And I think he knows, because he smiles 
when I ask if he thinks we could be forgiven. 

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