You told me ghosts are make-believe,
but how can you dismiss this feeling of emptiness,
a hollowness that grates itself against my bones,
sending surges of unspoken pain through every limb,
rupturing the veins that keep me alive,
you have left and now i'm deprived.

The ghost of you remains in my mind,
your scent lingers in the air wherever I go,
i'm still finding your hair laced carefully across pillowcases,
your shirt lies on my cold, hard floor,
my arms ache with longing,
yet you say ghosts don't exist,
and I have lost my sense of belonging.