the ghost of what was (and what will never be again)

daydreaming again,

haunted by a lingering warmth from a faraway fantasy

all shrouded in smoke and stripped of soul—silent,

the phantom of your face tucked in my shoulder.

where else is as hollow as the way breeze remains unbroken

or the way my emptiness is caged by nothing but scraps of peeling skin?

too far from reach even when I’m right beside you;

oblivious to the sinking of my palms past yours,

or how I only plunge myself deeper into despair

in a wretched search for an answer I already possess.

why is it that in you, I find life in death?

set me free and pop this red balloon of a heart

so that I learn never to soar,

and so that I learn never to be held;

pop this airy, red balloon of a heart before I realize

that there’s nothing left of me worth keeping in the end.

or leave me hanging, seal me away in amber,

trap my spirit in a locket forever clawing at your neck;

summon me and then neglect—

summon me and then forget—

forget as I rot twisted and tormented.

or once more,

beckon me over till we eclipse;

kiss my tears with your fingertips,

paint my shadow with your presence,

and whisper my name so you’ll never forget.

so here I float, forgotten and forsaken,

forever out of your sight,

‘cause I’m just the ghost of memory

who you chose not to see.