disappearing

the poem is spoken,
but it wasn't there,
an ephemeral token,
devourered by air,

surly shadow claw,
our things unseen,
imagines toothy maw,
that had never been,

a ghostly kiss,
it's impression still felt,
a lingering bliss,
to make one melt,

when gone is gone,
the memory won't fade,
for king, rook or pawn,
the image unmade,

i in memory dwell,
of the hurt before,
before the a wishes hell,
for the longings score,

so then I'll see,
the ghost of that past,
disappearing in me,
a loving sprit to the last.

so why is it,
the joys dissolve,
when hurts re visit,
and always evolve,

but in it's painful embrace,
it's no wraiths we fear,
when we stared at it's face,
only to disappear.

this poem may be spoken,
yet do not despair,
from a dream you have woken,
and the pretty words repair.