Three Paragraphs on the Art of Loving Ghosts

When loving ghosts, one must make allowances, for their intangible nature prohibits touch, physical warmth, passion. They mire in sadness regardless of kind words, a warming sun, a loverโ€™s wistful look. To struggle is in their make-up, their very essence. Like drifters on a highway, they patrol the ley lines you may not tread. Not yet, anyway. Not until the blue fades from your lips, too.

This insipid cold, if you will, does not make them cruel, nor inconsiderate just unable to yield to the pleasures of flesh and blood. Though they would if they could. They remember them, distant though they may be. They recall them, as the echoes of memories lost. Like violin strings plucked in a dream, they would hear this music called life once more.

So, how should one treat them? How should one appreciate these gentle spirits of the night? How does one love a ghost? Simple, my friend. Remember them. Remember them all. But most of all, and here I beg, remember me.

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11 thoughts on “Three Paragraphs on the Art of Loving Ghosts

  1. I always marvel at your ability to express the intangible and lull us with your serene words. And then shock the shit out of your readers.

  2. Aww I would always remember you. In fact if I don’t hear from you I come looking for you. ๐Ÿ˜€ Can you imagine if we were ghosts what fun we would have? I like that sometimes we feel their spirit around cheering us on such a sweet feeling ๐Ÿ™‚ Happy Friday R.

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