PHANTOM ACT by Abby Jean

Aug 28 ’17
It hurts me deep when he doesn’t write.
When he intentionally puts himself out of site.
Out of my sight.
Last text received was Saturday night.
I even saw him in my dream.
Twice that night.
Felt him, smelt him, kissed him there.
Only shadows left come Sunday.
A few streaks of light.
Even with my sweet somethings.
His reply stays blank with no nothings.
Makes me wonder.
Makes my heart wander.
What a strange character.
Connect deep daily then disappear.
Perhaps a wizard.
A magician.
A warlock.
Perhaps a human with a warm heart.
That flips quick to cold.
Had me interested in an answer for awhile.
But repetition bores the fuck outta me.
My inner child.
My imaginative mind.
My empathic soul.
I need all or nothing.
In-between is equivalent to limbo.
I only bend so far before I topple.
Or stand up and push back.
Push that shit off of me.
Stand up straight.
That’s what’s happening now.
I’m standing straight.
It’s too late…


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