A Figure On The Path

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Suspended mid-ascent
Photic threads about her sylphlike form
Gossamer, such faint restraints
Casting glows on weathered paint
From interwoven skin and ink

Lips brushed almost red
More like blood and wine entangled
Lushly driven floral spangles
Stolen ministry of angles
Spoken softly like a stranger

Under charcoal cloak
Her corona piercing flesh to soul
Driven nimbly through my being
Studded figment I am seeing
Shapely alabaster dreaming

Pale by moonlit paint
Transcendental vapor drawn in shape
Floating weightless in this forest
Through a chime of ancient chorus
Called and drawn from air before us

Ghost In Me

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Shutters closed so tightly
Everything is hidden out of view
Rooms adorned and waiting quietly
Behind these curtains that I drew

The fire burning brightly
Music fills these empty halls
With me she visits nightly
The vaults echo her call

The paths are overgrown
No one tends the garden anymore
Symphonies performed unknown
Memories from distant shores

Buried in the courtyard
Tapestries of dead desires
Wakened under new stars
Burning like a funeral pyre

She haunts my heart
She knows all the secret parts
Walks through my doors
Like I never even closed them

She haunts my dreams
She knows all my deepest things
Opens my thoughts
Like I never even closed them