The Ghost of Yan Stolnik

I seperated you from baybreeze babies
Now your back to my face scrapes me
X-ray souls cremate Xs and Os
Silently, this touchless tryst will close

Too good to be true is too good for you
Cold shoulders felt like cold showers
Followed by anger soaked hours
Silence from afar I won't bother to read
And it may hurt me to sit and watch you bleed

But better to sit and stare
Then to let oneself become the chair
The important thing is not to give a hand up
When minutes ago you became a hand out

The point for those who read between red
Is simply that not all ghosts are dead.

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