We made love on a haunted ship, leaning out the porthole under a full moon on Halloween.
Ten years later,
I remember your laugh.
It's the warmest sound in the world,
happy, sleepy and sometimes high.
My heart feels like your bedroom candle,
the one made of psychedelic colors
that melted down the side of the dresser and swirled into a pool on the old hardwood planks
next to your bed.
I don't remember our bodies, or anything else.
Except, you didn't seem to notice the waxy mess.
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