Fragments · Poetry
do you know what it’s like to ache relentlessly?
you’re like an appendage too broken to fix,
i miss you, nonetheless
like phantom limb syndrome
something similar applies to people too
ghosts of you haunt the space next to me,
the recliner,
the right side of the bed
these are the places i don’t occupy,
because you still do
from aching in apathy,
to rolling in regret,
to cynical to the core
by the way, the sheets your mom bought us are still tucked in, with the corners halved and tucked “up” just the way you liked.
a habit i couldn’t shake
you have silly bedtime rituals,
i still turn the lights out a little later,
just for the ghost of you
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