Prayer For A Ghost Story

I hope you and he made up. And made out. And made more magic flying and fucking like wild bats around a redwood campfire I hope the tears became sweat became hands holding that that raw and wounded meat of your still battered heart like a gem like a precious substance like a rare fruit pulled deep from the tremors of the dark earth because it is
Because It Is

Because It Is.

Because in all these terrors you are a wondrous light you are still a sun shining through crack after crack casting patterns on the moon that mystify and soothe and tremble our eyelids. I hope he picked you up all clumsy perfect and threw you to the bed all warrior and love I hope another small chunk of your armor dislodged and dropped and disappeared forever and you gain inches more back of the ground in this world that is yours to dance naked and wild upon because it is yours

because it is yours

because you are a fucking treasure

because you deserve it.