Ghost Limb at 3 AM

3 AM

I turn

Reaching,

Searching,

Stretching,

Grasping

For you,

A ghost limb, removed,

Amputated.

Yet,

The yearning,

The craving for

The softness of your skin,

The warmth and smell of you

Remains

An ache,

An itch,

A host of phantom feeling

Deep within the ghost limb

In the center of my chest.

Published by

Annette Kalandros

I am a retired teacher, enjoying everything that retirement means. In addition, I have been active in the LGBTQ community since I was four years old and marched my Ken doll with all his little Ken accouterments to the big metal trash can in the yard. Yes, I dumped Ken, along with said accouterments, into the can and slammed the lid on. My two Barbie dolls lived happily ever after.

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