gone 

I’m a ghost in training by way of heart failure, but I’ve lived. I’ll keep living through my art, my lost words…you don’t need to know me these are just words. 4 am whispers to myself.

“we are ghosts

amongst these hills
pressing out along the shore
from the clouds set on repeat
to the ground beneath our feet

we are ghosts

I’ll come again in spring
when the harvest can begin
a bird without its wings
is a lone and tragic thing “

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