- Books, Literature, and Writing
Your Kisses Left Burn Marks On My Neck, Your Hands Left Bruises On My Waist
the absence of a human from the presence of a ghost
Can you hear me? Where are you? Why aren't you here?
These are the only words able to fall out of my mouth since you left me emotionally unavailable.
Seeing you is the closest thing to seeing a ghost. I can't touch you, or see you, or breathe the same air; but you're right there in front of me and all it would take is my hand reaching out to grab yours. But that would only result in a quick absence from a living ghost.
You fade away into thin air but you're still alive. And I am very alive and you're very alive but you're absent, you're gone, you're not here. Can you hear me? Where are you? Why aren't you here?
I find you in a picture, in a map, in a song, even breathing right in front of me. That is how you find a ghost, right? You find them in memories, or maybe by accident. You open your eyes too fast, or the door you left wide open closes, or the wind taps on your window in the middle of the night. But I never asked for the wind. So where are you? If you're not here then where are you?
You're transparent, a figure with eyes, and a mouth, and a voice. But none of those things matter if they don't actually belong to you.
The house is cold, the walls dull, the bed sheets empty. So tell me where you are. I'd do anything to get you back.
I never knew what it meant to be empty, but full. I never understood what it meant to be euphoric, but angry. I never knew what it meant to be here, but absent. I never knew until you left.
I am here. I am here I am here. Can you hear me? Where are you? Why aren't you here?