The Night I Kissed a Ghost - 13 Nov 2006

With a cool coastal breeze, an August night, in my quiet little kitchen, it happened. I was living the life of a pityfully lonely man, loving what I couldn't have - it was gone. It was the early morning hours and I couldn't sleep so I got up to get some fresh air. Usually I would just head for the park for a walk, get my day started early. I felt I needed more sleep thit time. I keep the windows above the kitchen sink open, looking out into the park, so I poured a glass of water and looked out into what the streetlamps fought to reveal. Gradually my heartbeat slowed, and I knew I'd be able to sleep again soon.

Silently she stood in the door. Sudden as a black cat glides up to you for some attention on the sidewalk - she was there. I was not startled, I felt almost a sense of wonder. It was so cool, yet everything had suddenly warmed. A welcome cold at my feet, reminded me of the tile floor where we stood - I wanted to embrace this warmth.

She drew closer, I reached out. The cool air warmed as contact was made, the cool air was coming in through the window. She brought a breeze, but no cold, that was a gift of the night. The heat hurt. My skin felt as if it was sticking to hers, hot and fluid. The embrace was complete, and a secret bound the two of us. Unspoken and unannounced I took her, and kissed her. Soft, wet, hot, I was not so much giving as I was consuming. I had myself convinced that the heat was real, the moisture soothed, the embrace complete.

The secret of her passing could not be shared. I was embracing a lie in flesh. A tool of confusion and selfishness. I was feeling a passion for a spirit I had lost already. Lusting for a ghost.

The streetlights flickered behind me, my shadow blinked on the wall. I was alone and aching. The cool air on my back reminded me why I woke up, and the glass of water still waited for me on the kitchen counter. I still felt the burn, my face was hot, and my lips still wet. The cold floor woke up my feet to reality - I was still here, still pityfull, still alone ... I knew she was dead, I had eased her of that soul months before, but her ghost will return to warm me and remind me of those familiar nights.