sleeping with a ghost

the gentle caress of fingertips,

the dreamy embrace of a soft whisper,

the lulling satisfaction of a hearty sigh,

heavenly laughter that fills us to the brim

and threatens to spill over.

a hazy silence gradually becomes suffocating.

a cold smile doesn't quite reach the eyes,

a body’s soft outline that no longer feels real…

are these things truly mine?

or are they merely a rental

of something that belongs to another?