Ghosts (I)

The semi-buried skull of our love hisses secrets I don't wanna dance with. The seven-headed monster of what we could have been is howling in the middle of this warm freezing May night. I drink the tears I was too proud to shed. There's blood at the bottom of the cup, muddy lies, dizzy mistakes. It's not my fault and it may not be yours, but it's easier to blame us both than to admit that we opted for the rational choice. And yet, we once unleashed the beasts. The scars of their untamed desire run all over my skin. Can you see them? Can you even think of me? I don't miss you. I just crave you. You itch along the curves of my fingerprints, you expand my mouldy holes and light up my darkest moles. You're not a cancer, you're just a ghost, the suffocating veil that ties me to the empty mattress we should have shared. That's not what I wanted to say, that's the misty turmoil of the undisclosed instant when we were and we failed.