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haunted by the ghost of you

haunted by the ghost of you published on

i hurt – and i’m so tired of hurting.

i don’t want to be “friends” – i want to be friends.

i miss it all –

i miss exchanging recipes.
i miss the pictures of your kids.
i miss the conversations about mr. robot.
i miss sharing the stupid emails i got so we could laugh together.
i miss our mutual understanding of what depression was.
– is.
i miss your sarcasm.
i miss our shared love of music.
we don’t even have a song (why would we?)
but we have an artist, and two (three?) performances.
i don’t like to listen to him anymore.
his fingers strum my pain.
and i don’t want to hurt.

i miss your snark.
i miss your raised eyebrow.
i miss our mutual appreciation for fine whiskey.
i miss congratulating you on your accomplishments.
i miss your encouragement to get past my fears.
i miss our deep, philosophical conversations.
i miss our talks.

i’ve only twice heard your voice.
i miss your voice.
i don’t remember your voice.
i’ve never heard your laugh.

i miss telling the bf, “listen to this hilarious thing he said!”
i miss telling the bf, “look at this amazing thing she did!”

i’ve never done anything untoward.
you’ve never done anything wrong.
i never encouraged otherwise.
you never invited otherwise.

and i’m not saying that this is about that –
because it’s not.
and i’m not saying that i wanted that –
because i don’t.
and i know you didn’t mean to hurt me –
but you did.
and i know that i shouldn’t hurt –
but i do.

and i know i’m not alone –
you didn’t leave me alone.
you just left me.
i didn’t leave you –
are you alone?

but i see you, and i silently smile.
i see you, and i don’t say hello.
i see you, and i scroll on.
i don’t say anything.
i don’t touch that ❤️.
it haunts me.
it hurts me.
i’m sorry
(so sorry).

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