Whispers crawl up my spine
and there's a reflection
of faraway nothings in my eyelids
which flicker quietly
and dimly in the dark of every blink
I do not need-
and there is a hint in the air
in the corners, like the remains
of tears on lashes, blinking
damp fingertip stroke,
you know it's there but it is transparent,
a ghostly memory of something
which I never quite understood in the beginning.
A ghost's delicate fingers on my shoulder
reminding me, reminding me
never forget, child, never forget
I do not need, I do not need,
let us first wait, let us first wait.
(7th December 2013)
YOU ARE READING
Blue Moon
Poetry"Still she haunts me, phantomwise, Alice moving under skies Never seen by waking eyes." - Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There (2012 - 2014)
