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Lexington Poetry Month

Specter

02Jun2019
POEM

Her ghost visited me again last night,
the spectral silhouette shrouded in yellow light.
I watched as she entered my mind,
cutting to the front of my line of thoughts
beckoning me to a world I know little of.
I watched her
but I didn’t look into that digital plane
because of the danger of its dichotomous nature.
Looking would continue the charade
of unchecked passions carelessly indulged.
Looking would send her a snapshot of my vision
begging pressure to respond
to what I cannot preview or prepare for.
My current response,
the silence of not looking,
isn’t much better.
By now, she knows I’m purposefully not looking.

Thus we wait for the day
we meet each other in person again
when we can hash out irresponsibilities
and the terrible things we as human beings
can do to each other, 
I, certainly, being no exception.


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