The ghost of you hangs
In the air, heavy -
But by the grace of it
I am hanging on by the
Thinnest, slipping thread.
Stillness wraps around
The night, like the
Guardian of some rare thing.
Shhh - and I wait.
Wait for the hushed
Earth to confess its
Secrets against my
Battle-weary skin,
Give me back my
Living soul, give me
Comfort - give me something.
But the earth is silent.
There is only quiet,
And your name whispered
Like a holy word.