when you hear your story on her lips
and your hands shake
because the story looks just like
you used to
sunken
and haunted
all the way home
your throat as tight as the hands
invisible
gone
but the pain
still lingers
and you pray to god
that she found her way out
for good
because she can outrun
the echoes
that chase
baby, I promise
they only howl at night
you built this ghost story
more legend
and myth
than memory these days
ghost story
Em Lexeme 