Ghosts

Can we please sing ghosts again
And I promise we'll fall in love
I can't help exfoliating all screaming scabs of propriety
Damn the form
I just want your wrapped pulse, in the jaundiced expression
hinting at adoration, on my crimson pulse
While those steaming old faithfuls brand my own
And trickling specks of birds and wings can only mirror
Not echo the perfect puzzle of infinite immortality
It could have been worse
I wouldn't be able to even see the prickled, gorgeous flesh
Surrounding your singing phrases
Stringing through wired thread,
And your voice is still there
You're stronger than your waves that have me in rapture
Just crow at sunset
And I'll leave the pomegranates for you
unplagued
only tainted with the whisper of your perfect eyes
behind glass