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I have never seen a ghost

I have just one husband, dead and alive

My childhood home was never struck by lightning

I wear red lipstick because it’s ladylike

I have never searched for ways out

The spirit has never moved me

I bear no psychotic fondness for the moon

I don’t know what I’d do if a book could ruin me

When the wind skips work for an hour, I miss its whistle

Mostly this experience in loneliness is good for me

The sun never drags because I’m waiting to be somewhere

I can always read my own handwriting

I believe feelings are enough

I can tell trees apart

Year after year, the neighborhood park keeps looking like we remember it

I’d love to know why I’m like this

I grew up so full of hope, like everybody else

I got here on purpose

I had a plan

Posted 06/22/18
This poem happened my recent all-girls writing retreat, DHYANA. Every night we'd do a writing exercise/prompt together - this one came from a list compiled by one of our teachers and is pretty self-explanatory.
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