...if I ever cursed your name in whispers,
then I humbly bow in shame.
...if I ever struck your love in anger,
then I beg you do the same.
I was held down by your beauty
and by your clothes of nothing-more...
...by the window and the rain...
...the belief I was your whore.
I have forgotten nothing of our moments,
of your white dress
and of your name.
There are regrets with every loss
mine are at shame.
I am not aksing for forgiveness,
nor am I yearning for your voice,
in our lust we were both guilty,
in our vice and in our choice.
...a silhouette is torn upon my Soul,
much like the heart you broke for me.
I was the Liar, you were the Thief...
isn't it time we Ghostwrote free...?
Inspired by the in-between people and places, shortly before the waves come