Mummy
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The nights are the worst.
so lonely.
wanting to hold you,
the pillow becomes your skin.
Arms wrapped around it,
face buried
in nonexistent raven hair
that is yours, but not yours.
arms clasped around
and folded into sheets
that in my hazy dream state
become our hands,
holding hands as we walk
in the park.
Wrapped in and around this
tear stained fabric
we kiss, and I cry
knowing you're only a ghost,
lips I created and neck I kiss made
as real as can be in your absence.
I no longer know where
you begin, and I end.
Every night
I recreate you,
wrap myself around you
tangled sheets
lost in UN-reciprocated desire
wrapped up in my longing
for you and only you
like a mummy, a lonely mummy.
Copyright © Sam Harty | Year Posted 2024
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