GHOST LOVER by Abby Jean

Sept 17 ’17

I lay beside him.
I feel like a ghost…
I feel invisible.
I know he takes notice of my shell.
But my insides are like, air.
I didn’t feel this way before he came.
I felt very, full.
Solid.
Very vibrant.
Very ready to express.
Ready to entwine passions.

I lay beside him.
I ask about his day.
He nicely hushes me…
Desiring simplistic silence between us.
Absorbing stereo beats and soundwaves.
Longing for straight, peace.
To be in the moment.
Just be here in the present.
Stess free, just be.
Stillness.
In the stillness of the starry a.m.

Clever crickets cricket.
Beyond my window.
They break the silence.
Between the playlists.
Between us.
They soothe the silence.
Soothe both our innates…

I know where he’s coming from.
I understand him completely.
So I bite the bullet for him.
My heart swallows.
Well, gulps.
It’s now sitting silent…
When it wants to burst.
The pressure hurts.
I realized as we lay here.
Just how it hurts.

I just want to know his day.
This is my only time with him.
I want to know his life.
Enhance the in-and-out bond with him.
Be more than physical contact with him.
He’s so fascinating from afar.
Intrigue screams when he’s so near.
I scrape my nails against his window.
I’m so close, and so fucking far…
I feel invisible to him.

He sparks no convo about me.
My feelings.
My brainwaves.
My existence.
He sparks no interest… in knowing me.
Not in the verbal communicative sense at least.
I sense he psychically senses.
Emotionally senses.
Spiritually senses.
Who I am.
He must have at least those senses…
Subconscious or conscious, if he’s here.

He’s just…

Caught up in his own deep thoughts…
I understand.
Caught up in his own deep mind…
I get it.
Caught up in his own…
Web.

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