Poetry / regret for ghosts (Analysis)

regret for ghosts
gathers, like tiny bones in window-wells and
stacks, itself regardless of decay
It
plucks, like tongues tease stitches taut but
bends, white ridged ribs strung to the  setee
Where I
tucked, unupholstered ankles to buttocks
waited, to hear the curves of it
Sigh
In remiss of requited love
shuddered, still warm.

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