For P.M.L.

I wanted to believe

That in you I might see

A fellow hunger inside

For all things art and poetry.

To this day, even,

Despite all that has passed,

I’d move to forgive you

Knowing you will never ask.

So I pen you this farewell:

“Lines To a Ghost”,

Of all the haunts I’ve had

You possessed me the most.

Now, exorcised and free,

I can finally see

That the poet worth Love

Was never you, but me.