I'd sing you ghost stories
of haunted girls
with ruined bodies.
Once full-of-life beauties
dance their way
through your eyes.
A haunting melody of their voices
tells the tale of each
slow destruction.
You watch my eyes,
intent and true,
as my mouth speaks words
you try not to understand.
(It's easier this way)
a whisper speaks.
And you nod,
your eyes glistening
with all the tears you've
never needed to cry.
You stand to leave,
and with your hand on the door,
you echo
(it's better this way)
Author notes
Done for a prompt from another site.
Per usual, things in brackets = italicized.
Written November 28th, 2005
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