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Poetry: How He Became A Ghost by Noemi Soto  

Posted by Scott Wilson

There is metal where his heart should be

cold and heavy, he carries it everywhere

deep within his hollowed out chest he made himself

He used to be warm blood pumping

but now he walks with the burden of the wounded

staggering with the stench of fickle love



He licks my lips trying to heal what he made bleed

but he is shrapnel tongued

and I still have the word "beautiful" embedded in my skin

Hand in hand, we put kisses in boxes that we hid under his bed

tucked away never to be found

Only we knew it's hiding place



He broke himself down into small pieces so as not to overwhelm me

and with two fingers, he placed each jagged piece under my tongue

until he became a part of me



If I could, I would take his beating heart

and place it in my pocket

so that I may know what it is like to be truly close to him

He always kept his skin thick

so I couldn’t find my way underneath

and burrow myself within him

Arm’s length was never far enough



We shared secret moments tangled up in bed sheets like nooses

Told me how much he cared for me as he hiked up my skirt

That’s the only way to get a man to like you, you know

I tried to hold on to him

but he’d turn into a ghost to slip right through my fingers

just had to watch as he floated away from me



We were always a silent train ride home deep in thought

skin still sticky with sweat

mind swimming with regret and confusion

Trying to make sense of it all



Nowadays I watch him from a distance

careful not to step too close

He’s always knew how to make his way in



And as for me…

Well, I have become a closed fist

ready to unleash all of the bitterness he placed so sweetly inside the palm of my hand.

This entry was posted on Thursday, December 2, 2010 at 1:01 AM . You can follow any responses to this entry through the comments feed .

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