i came out so we could play, but you keep running away

tumbling backwards down a dream or a memory of necromancy

I know a place.

I think I made my peace when the dream finally ceased.
I'd weep in sleep, nightly, every time,
your face always hidden—no lines,
no eyes, smudged, but I could tell it was you, no lies.

I felt like a little child, waiting to play toys with my best friend.
I felt small and delicate.
Around you softness was okay to let,
you made no hiss or fit about what things meant.

I recall the times I tried necromancy—summoning,
divining and scrying,
counting rings and streams of smoke,
turning cards and adoring full moons with hope.

I never saw your ghost, but in dreams I breathed my need,
and every time I would see you there,
I always hoped to see you free.
But you stayed hidden
and gave me no lines to see.