With the arrival of winter
the ghosts return,
Floating through memories,
faces I discern.
They haunt the empty spaces they left behind,
Filling the voids of their absence.
I welcome their visiting sadness,
Finding in loss a perverse joy?
Their phantom kisses awaken regret,
For days too fast,
Now forever settled
In the embrace of time, like snowflakes
Drifting and scattering -
The ghosts of January come
To shake what is best left to matter.
Those ghosts bring out
our masochistic side
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From @asielda