ghost


The ghost of you still haunts these halls. Not a physical death but more a metaphysical one. A tragic ripping from the very fabric of my existence. It’s not often that you say anything but when you do it offers nothing of the truth. And then you discuss the things I say, the bits of my heart and mind that I reveal truthfully, with random people, but you paint it black and leave me fading in a negative light. So these people withdraw and a life alone becomes more lonely in the wake of the damage caused by you. And yet, for some reason, I still reach out to you and hope for some form of reciprocal understanding/compassion/care. I now know that died when you locked the door.

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