I don’t want any trouble
still you give me double
alone in this bubble
which I can’t ignore.
The trail is subtle
some bread crumbs and rubble
your sinister cuddle
remembering more.
Traumatically speaking
I guess that we’re even
transfixed in this feeling
of which I abhor.
But I found this Agate
it’s my force of habit
to deal all this crap with
your ghost I implore.
Relieve me this burden
there I’ll know for certain
whose shadow is flirting
from under the door.
For years I’ve been knocking
from inside this coffin
perhaps I’ll find out when
I dwell nevermore.
Though we both know
we’re bound evermore.
Interesting form. It seems to be a variation of the rhupunt.
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