I am haunted by the ghosts of my memories;
The regrets for things said and done, or not said, not done;
The remembrance of a touch, a tender word, the way the flowers looked as we picked them;
The warmth and softness and passion that moved from your lips to mine, and back again to you;
The feel of your skin against mine, the smell of you on the nape of your neck;
The sunsets shared, the food enjoyed, our hands intertwined;
There were adventures gone bad, laughing in bed, talking with the covers pulled over our heads;
Making love after just the right amount of red wine, the taste of sweet chocolate still lingering on our tongues;
Can't forget running together every week, the way you looked under the water when we dove from the boat and swam side by side, lying on the beach feeling happy, close, in sync;
My fingers know your curves and trace them still in my mind as I wake alone in the middle of the night;
First time snowshoeing, crunching through the drifts, drinking warm lemon tea as we lay beneath white blanketed trees;
Fireworks and thunder showers, blizzards, and moon rises, I ran naked in the rain to make you smile;
Waffles for breakfast, coffee together every day, dinner with candles as you came home to me;
These ghosts they come when I first wake each morning;
They slip through my mind as my bike travels familiar routes that now seem strange when I cannot ride home to you, be greeted by your smile, your smell, your eyes saying you were mine;
The spirits tear at my heart, already broken with grief, when I run, my feet left wanting that they cannot share the same path as yours;
I drive through town, the memories come, I spot you sometimes and am afraid of the darkness that drives sobs from my body and tears down my cheeks;
I understand loss, but am unable to reconcile not knowing why, not understanding your feelings, nor you mine, you having no desire to ever talk, be friends, or even acquaintances.
I gave all I had and I know it may not have been enough, but I haven't been able to accept that after all we shared I am left with ghosts, but no farewell, no real good-bye;
My ghosts have no form, but they unsettle and hurt nonetheless;
I cannot banish them, am unable to find an escape;
Hope for the future sometimes holds them at bay, but not for long, not enough to feel relieved.
They fill me with fear, make me hollow inside, my only relief comes when I finally succumb to sleep.
