Hauntings
you wore the flickering room
like a robe, its shadows fitting
to your skin like mist
we were the wolf
and his lover the moon
we were claws and soft flesh
graveyards and midnights
and no matter how loud
outside witches were screaming
we made our own noises
danced our own waltzes
to the howls and the hand's
candlelight
Copyright © Clive Culverhouse | Year Posted 2023
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