Mist.

The mist is thick in the night’s sky,
and I hope it’ll come and swallow me up,
swallow this whole damn city. 

You told them you’d go but how would they know?
I say it’s a shame
well, if you say so.

The thunder pulls me from my dream
and I race after you to the window
and I wrap my arms around your lithe waist
and remember how it felt to be a kid again
listening to your heartbeat as the lightning strikes.

 

Brine.

Ghosts.