Arms of a ghost that wrap around me
in the middle of the night. An
Embrace, once warm, now
cold, as though of ice.
Ice, gathers at my shoulder blade,
Gliding down the center of my back,
Freezing what tiny shred of
Humanity I cling to, for the sake
of my forgotten sanity.

A breath of smoke - a feather'd
Kiss sends shivers along their
Well worn paths.
Ah, if this is memory, a
Thought, a wish of what had
Been, I would not stir, nor
make a sound, afraid to shatter
Reverie.

With but this ghost of comfort,
Alone at last in humid nights
I fear to lose control. Weeping,
I bury my head in covers, and
wonder if this ghost was ever
really mine.

 
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