Phantom
A poem about wanting and having.
By Hela BPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 1 min read

Your translucent palms
unravel and show
the lines like rivers
under your faint fingers,
to offer what remains
solid in your watery hands.
Your phantom touch,
fingertips and thumbs
reach for skin,
my bones and limbs
to only meet the cold air
that exists outside bodies.
Your blurry lips
languidly move
to attempt indistinct words,
or noises or sounds
only for exhaling emptiness
and silent stillness to be.
~*~
Your bodiless body.
Your mindless mind.
My needy one.




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