An Unnerving Grasp On My Shoulder
I had a meeting with a ghost.
It spoke in twisted tongues,
A creature that knew no trust.
It’s eyes followed me, yet yielded contact.
I couldn’t feel any warmth,
Nothing to hold me, to keep me safe.
Tone coarse, a dead, silent winter.
I reach my hand out, sweeping through cold mist.
There is a presence, to which I am blind.
The ghost embraces.
Nostalgic shivers race deep within roots.
A twist in my abdomen, I shake him off my mind.
He is not here anymore.