I'm convinced ghosts and memories are cousins
I feel them in the walls
In the bathroom, in my(?) bed, and even in the glossy surface of the sink
It's just the wind I chant surrounded by stuffed friends
Then why do I feel so full I crave purging
Why do I feel their essence dirtying my palms
They're clinging to the hem of my dress
I want to yell
STOP HAUNTING ME! I'VE DONE NOTHING TO YOU BUT MOVE ON, THAT'S ALL I COULD DO.
My weary head meets the wall.
He replaced us. He hid all the tiny traces of us we didn't take and moved a brand new family unit in
Avoiding speaking of us like it would erase us from existence
From existing here.
I say quieter
I did nothing. I did nothing.