Necromancy

How strange it is
that time drips,
folds and creases like
an old, wet fabric.
You had lived,
the storm around you
awash in despair.
Memories rain and I know
you wished me to remember
who I never was.
I live, awake by moonlight
dreaming of shadowy streaks
like distant rain, past lives,
and of a way
to bring back
the dead.

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