She text at 4 a.m.
A long forgotten lover,
sending scrambled messages
from beneath.

She is probably drunk,
yet still, my heart is fraught
with worry and uncertainty.

I wish I could transmute my feelings,
eradicate her shadows,
forget she existed at all.

Sadly I can’t.
Her ghost clings to me
like a second skin
rising, her reflection
only serves to
color and confuse me.

Why can’t I forget?
Why is she still a part of me?

Nagging unanswered questions
walking in the deep.

Yes, she is
a haunted memory,
slowly draining me.