1Ghosts from recent places
haunt every waking hour,
vanishing only in night
to wait out dreams in pity.
Ghosts of flesh and blood still,
their undead bodies sleep
curled up in lonesome sheets,
subconscious casting peace.
Still fair haired and dark haired
with throbbing limbs and hearts
beneath snow white skin that
has escaped the male blues.
On sidewalks they follow,
in exercise they chase,
when writing they stare cold,
laughing at sad faces.
Now all it is to wait for
is the change of heart
from these wicked live demons
who shatter love.