i feel
you
in everything
that i do;

miss you
with every
atom
of my being.

and i know
that you were
never any
good for me,

but i crave
you like a
smoker craves
nicotine.

you’re the
itch that i
can’t quite
scratch;

a pinprick
sensation
on the back
of my neck.

i am
haunted
by the ghost
of you.

the memory of
your lips on my
skin keeps me
up at night.

i see you
standing
on empty
sidewalks,

your
reflection
trapped in
tinted glass.

everyone
i see
reminds me
of you—

the cashier
whose blonde
hair looks
red

when the
light
hits it
just right;

the woman
whose lips
curve the
same way

yours
did
when you
smiled.

i wake up
to the smell
of your perfume
on my pillowcase.

your side
of the bed
remains
empty.

i hear your
whispers
in the
wind;

see your
shadow
entwined with
mine.

i can never tell
if it’s a trick
of the
light,

or of
my
shattered
mind.

i remember that
when you held
me i felt
magnificent.

but i
am
not
magnificent.

maybe if
i was,
you would still
be here.

i am left
with nothing
more than
haunted memories

and
a
haunted
mind.

i am
haunted
by the ghost
of you

and what
we could
have
been.