ghost

Her nail polish was chipped and her hair was wet when she arrived on my doorstep.
I thought she was a ghost so I offered her a cocoa

She seemed of and not of
in and out of the hour
Spinning whilst standing still

It made me dizzy
I closed my eyes and she kissed her hand to mine, with strength and gentleness.

She told me her life in still images,
in screen shots and flashes

It didn't all make sense, but it felt like sense
it was made up of ear pops at high altitude, and endorphin rushes,
Of wrong steps and cigarette burns
Of hard breathing and the smell of bleeding

She stabbed me with the memory of the knife. 
And with the memory of dying she killed me.
And with the sensation of ending, she calmed me.

She showed me her life.
She showed me it all.