a paper ghost came to me
hurled itself against my window
with all the force and rage
of wild animals and pulsing blood
refused to let it in, at first
i was weak my body ached
my nose dripped and i was idle
but i invited the ghost inside with me
it whooshed in through my sleeves
and down my collar
wrapped itself around my body
until it was warm
and it was loved
sometimes you set out to create
but the paper's blank
we breathe and sigh
but sometimes the words creep in soundlessly
the pen is quick, no longer dry.
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