Ghost Kiss

Memories of you cling

to the tip of my tongue,

grappling hooks tearing 

at the tender flesh of my lips

where your smoky breath lingers

and the missing details of us

cast shadows along blurry edges

How Will You Remember This Time

We sit watching scary movies 

that make us laugh so hard

we lean on each other 

with careless disregard 

because you can’t squeeze

your heart 

into foolish small spaces

and I can 

just be myself. 

We laugh 

until I can’t breathe,

until you fill my lungs

with a whisper of your joy 

and I inhale 

the scent of happiness.

I lay beside you on your bed

as the hour grows late

and spoon you because I like it,

maybe more than you do, 

a warm snuggle

where I lay my head in loving you

because your days are too long 

and mine are stretched too thin 

to hold it all together. So 

I tickle you silly, 

my cold fingers reaching 

up to your armpits

because I told you 

that it’s the warmest part 

of your 8-year-old body,

and you fight me 

with giggles and squeals

in the arsenal of your love

while I smile because 

neither of us 

believes such silliness 

since the warmest part 

has always been your heart,

and I cleave to the vain hope 

that you’ll never outgrow

our nightly snuggles.

The world may have 

grown farther apart, 

threads in a tapestry

no longer tethered 

together and desperate 

for a normalcy

that’s already been replaced.

But I cling to my heartbeats,

each one pulsing with memories

that aren’t tainted with just fear.

 

** Poem inspired by Samantha Reynold's poem with the same name