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16

Oct

the haunting pt. 3

You say that you still remember

every inch of our last moments.

But you don’t know, that every

fibre of you lives in the corners of my

closets. 

In the back of my throat.

In the nerves at the ends of my

forever trembling fingers.

And I don’t know if you

are able to sense my anguish,

but every memory of you

lives like bile in my stomach.

Sharp, and acidic, and persistent.

You are like the Livestrong bracelet on your wrist. 

Both pivotal and mysteriously untouched. 

And although you may be a skeleton

of what I knew and what I loved,

miles and miles

and worlds away,

I know that  I will always

be haunted by you. 

-b

06

Dec

Reminding myself often

Reminding myself often