Aftertaste

It was after the holiday cheer,
that I soon saw my ghost appear,
milky vapor leaving and leading me by an inch.

I heard the stars are all dead.
The three wisest men once again,
like a ghost tells a story,
starry eyed, holy,
hoping for only the best.

Leaning on life after death, I find it
fostered by angels, who gave gift with a test
to not call it a curse
and to take what I get.

A sun in the morning,
a daughter at dance class,
rain dance summer,
cloudy moon, chalky last aftertaste
cold light for your love life
doesn't last.

Warm sun breaking dark lines,
underneath our eyes.
You smiled, 'said to close mine
to believe the stories, one more time.
To believe our story,
to believe our lives.

I was thankful, to be finally, tasting my words.

I swear I'd go blind to believe in nothing
and by that I mean everything.