I am convinced you are a ghost
For I cannot seem to find
Where you are, though you are
Quite often on my mind;
A specter of my mind it seems,
The haunting angel of my dreams;
And when I attempt
To caress your face
My hand shreds the apparition,
A delicate piece of lace;
I oft awake in a cold sweat
Having thought you passed before my eyes,
Until then I hadn’t fallen yet
For such a sensual set of lies;
Those lips, that face, that figure,
Those ever-changing eyes;
How can a man resist,
Such a desirous set of lies?
But if beauty is truth
Then you’re surely not a lie
Because beautiful you are
And unworthy am I.
© Copyright 2016 Russ Hammond. All rights reserved.
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