You tended to the forest in my
chest and now you're gone and
the roots are overgrown, and the
leaves are making their way up to
my mouth and I can taste them when
I breathe your name late at night. It
hurts. Now come back and finish
what you've done to my insides.

do ghosts get
white-knuckled
when they
cling to
life?

i swear:
i'll unfold you
if you
u n f o l d
me too

toska (n.)-
a dull ache of the soul,
a longing with nothing
to long for