My Ghost

Who are you and why do you haunt me?

You lurk in the backgrounds of photographs I want to burn,

but I can't unframe them from the wall.

Shadows of my dreams--nightmares?--contain you. They're happy.  

I don't wake up screaming but I wake with an ache in my chest even my tears can't heal.

Who are you? Why do you think you can do this to me?

Carboard boxes of your things lay under my bed. I hoped the boogie man would steal them.

No, it's still there, a proverbial body, blood of my mistakes. 

I choose caffiene headaches instead of vanilla lattes because you're the one that introduced me to coffee.

Yet coffee isn't the taste I crave. I crave you.

And I hate you.

And I still love you. 

Who do you think you are? Why do you have to be my ghost? 

Please write back. 

 

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