I made friends with your ghost.

Much easier, this way, to know you. 

But you refused to lay still. 

I remembered you in fits, a slow jerking towards a memory I thought I had put down; it had no subtlety, just the loud rage of your presence as it lept upwards, through me, past me, fierce and angry and so much stronger then the dream I thought you to be.

One Response to “echo”

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