Il fantasma dell’amore

A heartbeat in the still of night. Eyes closed, still breathing. Throbbing head. Hangover in the making. I’m dreaming, I must be.

Because that sound is not real.

The faint whirring. The light, the shade. An entity. Not human, just… spirit.

Whispers only I can hear.

“Kiss me. Hurt me. Sting me.”

I can feel it. Him, her, I don’t know. Lips on mine, but not really lips. Ghostly hands roaming about my body.

Is this a ghost I am kissing?

Is this a ghost who is, without touch, making me shudder and lose my very sense?

Is this a ghost who’s telling me “I love you” in the midst of the most sensual carnality?

Eyes fly open. Darkness. Nothing. No ghosts.

I sigh in relief and turn to the person next to me.

But he’s not there anymore. He is a ghost now. A figment of my imagination.

And I can’t stop crying.

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Whisper to me

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