In my darkest mornings
I rise like a ghost,
wandering with a candle
searching for a bit of silk
to rub between my fingers.
In my haunted face
my fear is drawn like a bag,
the flame lively in my pupils.
You see my pain
and my searching.
It must be hard for you
to live with a ghost half the time.
When I warm up
you see me smile throughout a thousand lifetimes.
Whether dead or alive
you're still there,
still seeing me,
throughout my longest nights
and my very best days.
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