Spectre

It was by the bed
that I first saw him-
raw and lucid-
stripped down to the strings.

I would've sworn
the melody was for me
though the notes
stung with such
force and pain-
when I tried to sing out,
I swallowed my tongue.

he would dance rings
around me,
like blood running
through the veins
of a fiddle-
on the floor and
in the air
like a gentle locomotive.

just like me to be
mortal and impatient-
try to lasso
a soul who is meant
to embody as many
girls as it takes to
fuel his iron voice.

in the passing days,
I'll remember how silly
to take a trip
with the dead
and how I once
fell in love
with a ghost and
his guitar.

historyhopelifelost lovei do not know?

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