PitchforkPrincess's Website

A Ghost

He came at dawn -
ethereal beauty and
quiet grace.
He touched my face
with hands
of glass
and I died
a million times.
His breath against
my skin -
the soft caress of
whispered words -
I cannot explain -
I lived
a thousand lives.
When he was gone
my chest was
empty -
he'd taken my heart
and left me broken.

. . .