Lonely spirit

I told a lonely spirit I’d
Be with it for always.
It gave me many kisses and
Spoke of its gratitude.

It brought me to its body,
Motioned to the city round,
And said it was afraid to let
Its skin back in the ground.

I asked this lonely spirit how
It could know what’s in the end,
But still want to be back,
And still want to pretend:

Imaginary people,
Who hide so deep inside
Their imaginary unions,
Their cultures of the times.

It looked at his corpse,
For minutes...or a year,
Then turned back on me
And recited its fear.

I told that lonely spirit I'd
Be here waiting for its end,
But when it came—it never came—
For souls can just pretend.