They tell me not to romanticize ghosts, but you are the celestial break in a black night, iridescent spill of aurora borealis over snow, and I am a deer in the glow of Christmas lights, willing our shadows to touch what our flesh won’t. They tell me not to dig up graves, but I am filling your head with tomb-laid forget-me-nots. I am a rain-soaked notebook confessing soggy truths in a ceremony of flickering candles and cracking roots, mistakes I’d make again if it meant tethering my moon to your night. You taste like cinnamon and bad decisions I want to wake up regretting. They tell me not to raise the dead, but your eyes are blurred and beckoning, and I am starving for the haunt.

Prompts used (tags are the poets’ IG handles):

@papertearspoetry - “don’t romanticize ghosts” @octavia.poetry - “the wild hunt” @lipstick.stains_ - “Write about shadows touching before bodies do.” + “a rain-soaked notebook confessing its soggy truths” @jessaure.poetry - “deer in the glow of Christmas lights” @nicoledalcourtwrites - “mistakes I’d make again” @tangledflxwers - “your reflection in the iridescent oil spill” @m.l.macdonald - “the crack of sleeping roots” @cozyinkpress - “celestial break” @theconstantpoet - “filling your head with forget-me-nots” @wildgreensmag - November Daily Words - “ceremony” @kaytpoems - “eyes blurred and beckoning” @loisofthehearth - “you taste like cinnamon and bad decisions” @angelealowes - “tethered to the dark” @libbyjenner.poetry - “flickering candles”