Ghost
I still see your ghost,
your face in the blur,
and the pale morning light,
cutting trough the dark
like my hands in your hair,
breaks me down when, at dawn,
it flows on my skin.
I still see your ghost,
your face in the blur,
and the pale morning light,
cutting trough the dark
like my hands in your hair,
breaks me down when, at dawn,
it flows on my skin.