the phenomenon of ghosting

death has visited, leaves eery quiet in his wake as he twirls life away from me. she dances in passionate flames, inevitably attracted to her opposite, a fatal affair. now that she’s gone, there is an emptiness hanging still like stale air, a suffocating heaviness; how can something weigh so much on my heart when it is nothing? absence feels like a deadweight anchored to my body, a live grave of opportunities and light swallowed up by soft sheets, a possession so gentle you could hardly notice the difference.

my ribcage is shrinking into its own shadow while my heart hibernates and becomes numb to the cold; each and every bone feels like the towering bars of a prison maze, watch as i try to feel my way out of this mess. they tell me to follow the right hand rule, but my hands don’t feel right with bloodied hands that’ve continuously left glass shards swept under the carpet after failing to piece them back together. the only way i feel is through the reverberation of bass tunes along my veins, a steady rhythm to combat the dark silence that haunts me so.

maybe this is just a phase, i thought to myself, like a misguided ghost trying to figure out its reason for existence, wandering endlessly with forgotten buried grudges and regrets, a uncomfortable stirring within its soul. these souls move on sooner or later, rekindling peace and security within themselves; so shall i one day.

(nobody speaks of those that linger, in limbo, still struggling to reconstruct themselves. i hope you will speak of me. i hope you will speak to me.)




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