Ghosts

I’m surrounded by the ghosts. Not  ghosts that are remnants of your beautiful life but they feel like ghosts of your absence. Things that

remind me of the gaping hole that constantly threatens to consume my life.

Everything you’ve touched and left in my life has turned into haunting ghosts. They remind me of your presence that was once here but is now cold and gone. That you once lit up my home and my entire life but is now darkness. Emptiness. Pain. Sorrow. Your shoes. Your clothes. Your lunchbox. Pictures. Memories. …

Things I’m afraid to move. Afraid to put away. I’m frozen and leave them out. The only things left here that prove you were part of my life. Part of my home. If your everyday items are gone from my daily life then you’ll be gone. You’ll be in my past and that scares the shit out me. So I keep them. I wash them. I put them back right where you left them. For when you come back. Just in case.

Now I’m afraid of ghosts. What else in my life could become the ghosts of someone else? I feel a need to put everything away. I’m afraid that someone else will be gone and I’ll be haunted by more ghosts. More items that will remind me of absence instead of life. Laundry. Make-up. Shoes. Coats. These items are all over the house. Everyone’s house. Constant reminders of life. But they quickly can be terrible reminders of nothingness.

When will the switch happen in my brain. That these things were once yours and I can think of the amazing feelings you held in my world, instead of this. When will the ghosts be a friendly feeling of you and not a sinking feeling in my chest that your beautiful life is gone from my life for the rest of it.