My Ghost

ramblings

I wake... I dress... I make coffee...
And you're there.
I watch the smoke from my cigarette drift out the window and up... slip to the sky and clouds... I'm envious...
You're there.
Hanging around in corners... in drawers... in every shadow... in my mind...
Still there.
Like the smell of black coffee and cigarettes saturating the fabric of the couch... the drapes... clinging to my clothes and body... to everything...
Always there.
Your smell, your sounds... your smile and face... shadow every room... hanging like a mist just inches from my face... Closing my eyes only lets the mist envelope me...
Always there.
I almost wish there were a rattling of chains, a rash of violence, an assault of the physical... something to inspire fear... something to inspire terror...
But no... you're there... and comforting... I've gotten so used to your haze... your mist...
Please dont go.
 

Reviews

[Muse]

it's funny how the memory of somebody can become like an infection. Spreading into both our fantasy and reality....

[Lucifer Jones]

yes, it really is. Thank you for pulling up a chair tonight.