the afterlife


can’t you see i’m still a ghost?
your touch goes right through me
i feel nothing
why don’t you convince me
just for a second
my bright-eyed boy
that i could breathe through burnt lungs
that wildflowers could grow here
that you could be my world
that you could take me from this one
go on
run through my fields
pick a dandelion or two
it’s okay
you’re not the first
take them home with you
let them be your parting gift
remember me
like a fond dream
hold onto me
like a fresh bouquet
watch me wither and wilt
weren’t my colors beautiful that first night?

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