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a certain slant of light

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I think I was a ghost that night.
You walked right through me and shivered
so I followed you home. We floated through
every room until you fell down
and started weeping.

I brushed up against your shadow
and felt your sadness; it was too much like
my own. It reminded me of things I was trying
to forget. I wanted to help, but I had to go.
I’m so sorry.

If I’d stayed, I would have told you
what ghosts and attics know.
You can’t change the past — you can only
visit for a little while. Then you hang up some
cobwebs and shut the door behind you.




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