I'm living with phantoms. Every day I kiss your phantom lips, the ghostly shadow of your cheek resting on mine.
But I'm beginning to forget. I forget the feel of your teeth on my neck, I forgot how it felt when you grabbed me too hard. I forget the times when my body loved you so strongly I knew another piece of me was dying, and the tears that flowed down my cheeks were mourning my death, rejoicing in loving you.
I don't remember why I ached, why my head would spin every time you walked away. I don't know why it was always the same, happy to have another piece of me die to give room to love you more. I don't remember why I'm still living with your ghost.
I don't want you here anymore. Your ghost does nothing for me but make me more like you. I carry you around with me wherever I go, this ghost that does nothing but pull me down, pull me away. How can I ever let anyone in when you're still breathing down my neck? I can't even be happy with your memories, what memories of ours were ever happy?
Why is your phantom still here? You're at the Redmond library, you drag me around Seattle, you walk past my street every night. Don't stain my city, please.
When we were together all I had of you was your phantom.
I pretended you were there with me when I rode the bus, as I walked among the bookshelves you've never seen. It was your hand that pointed out the books that I wanted. When I walked myself home, you were right next to me, guiding me across the street. When the flock of maple seeds transformed into moths, beating violently along the wind, it was you carrying them along to greet me.
Will you come and fetch me?
But alas, you're only in my mind. I live as though I'm not alone; but where are you, really? I can't chase you in dreams, I can't cross this sea.
In your absence I build you up, until you're no longer you. I have to let you go, because you'll only ever be a ghost to me. I don't want to be in love with a phantom. I don't want to turn you into a phantom either (I whisper, "Don't cool off, I like your warmth").
I'll bury pennies underneath your window frame, so that when you tire of this view and tear it down, you'll see how I wished only the best for you.
2 comments:
a beautiful post
I'm crying this is amazing
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