There are ghosts in the water, and I will not drink
I’ll let no swirling phantom pass through these lips
Swilring sweet and smoky in the recess of my yearning
So long ago I waved goodbye, feeling nothing as something slipped from my fingers
My love remains – milky miasma murmuring moments of memory
There are ghosts in the water, and I will not bathe
I’ll let no screaming banshee shower me with longing pain
Screaming, screeching, reaching under my skin, seeping through my pores
I stand under waves, awash with regret as I weep dry tears
My love remains – ephemeral and everlasting echo of eerie unease
There are ghosts in the water, and I will not drown
I’ll not be suffocated by misplaced fear of her displaced spirit
I’ll not be submerged beneath her calming claiming embrace
I’ll not lose myself in the wealth of her blue, the swell of her cool
My love remains and I…

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