Ghost
H
Harold Pinter
0
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I felt soft fingers at my throat
It seemed someone was strangling me
The lips were hard as they were sweet
It seemed someone was kissing me
My vital bones about to crack
I gaped into another's eyes
I saw it was a face I knew
A face as sweet as it was grim
It did not smile it did not week
Its eyes were wide and white its skin
I did not smile I did not weep
I raised my hand touched its cheek
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