enter catchy title here

your fingers once clung to my arms with a tightness that made me feel like i was necessary, and I couldn’t wash the scent of you off my skin. now i can’t even remember how you taste. 
 
i don’t think you you ever s a  w    me in the same tints, shades, or colors in which i saw you. perhaps that’s why it was so easy to cast me aside and leave me to the odds and ends of the flea market while you went searching for cathedral glass.

i l-worded you in more ways than i can count, but only the moon and my cheap paperback journal will ever know that.

ghost