she needed to believe my lies
his memories hid within
the specks of her irises
and every time she blinked
she saw him there,
this ghost of unwilling desire,
fighting to change the weather
or the time on the clock
or the whispers of frantic beauty
that hid in the closet
she heard them
as she tried to sleep
and she would blink and blink
but the ghost wouldn’t leave
and I would recite my lies as poetry
and feed her remedies of manipulated comfort
and when she cried
I licked the tears from her face
and hid the ghosts in my skin
