The Ghost of Emily Dickinson Convinced Me to Roll Again

Confide in me though it has been a while

I’ll try to read your words and not your smile

despite it’s reminiscence of the sun

blinding bright and white, the purest dove skin

Doing it again, my apologies

buried with the others it shall be done 

mistakes, I have made more than once indeed

such pasts these ghosts that haunt this very room

One ghost one night whispered to me, “we won”

a delicate chill fell through the air like frost

death reminding me that I had lost

if you were a gambler, you’d understand

Though understanding you I have yet not

Confide in me once more once more with words

there is no time but time to write a verse

there is no end, only what has begun