give it up, ghost.

8-10

purple spine:
i waver
while the AC
spits heat back
into my eyes.
.

it is now
11PM:
the car wheezes
and i itch
to take us both
into the fray.
.

the dark
admits sheepishly
in his slouched,
unforgiving form
that i am indeed
the only
late night shift(er)
he can't help but
touch all over.
.

he holds me close
through the drive,
promising not to
let me go
and
his chapped lips
release a choked whisper
at the base of my throat
that shakes
the whole damn road.
.

mother mother earth
rejects us helplessly
while we stumble further
into his own shadow.
.

(so... i grab onto
his coat lapels
and silence him
with consent that
draws us into a
sad, desperate
embrace -- the
                dirt stutters
                against the wind,
                greying into a grave.)

.
bruised blue
backbone:
it is now
12AM and i am
his ghost.