I trudged up and down the same hill
several times a day for years
looking for you.
I finally found you,
hidden in your own skin.
You asked me to hold you,
so I did.
My heart was pumping your blood and
your heart was talking too loudly.
I don't know why it needed to shout
if we were so close.
When I woke up the next day
I knew
That I'd only dreamed of finding you.
In the waking world
I wouldn't have known what to look for.
And since when do ghosts have hearts, anyway?
