Under My Skin

I always say
you are a ghost,
a specter
haunting my days,
invading my nights,
but perhaps
I am really
the phantom
who knows not
of who she is
or why she’s here.
Maybe I am
this apparition
waiting for resolution
or absolution
so that I can stop
and really understand
these words,
this need to speak
so silently.
I am the ghost,
this unsubstantial figure
floating amongst
real people
and all the time
who I am
and why I can’t get you
out from under my skin.



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