on the lonely table,
candle light blaring,
moon light fading.
Its white petals touch my cheeks
the music box plays,
quietly,
as your ghost careses my face,
the silk cutins are blown by
the wisping wind.
My shoulders freeze.
Your pale hands rub
my long neck,
your lips sweetly touch mine,
the leaves carried by the wind,
circles around us,
my eyes are closed,
but when I open them,
there is you,
no more
