She had that sinking feeling,
like the weight of a ghost—
pressing cold truths on her shoulders,
a whisper too loud to ignore.
Something terrible had happened.
The room tilted,
and the confession spilled
from lips cracked with silence.

I’ll give your life meaning, she said,
a promise coiled in smoke,
early morning walk of shame,
heels striking pavement,
a rhythm for the unspoken.
Life intoxicating,
a kaleidoscope of ache and anesthetic.
For a moment,
I finally feel no pain.

Forget the rumours—
her psychosis lit like a matchstick,
spreading in the wildfire of small towns
and smaller minds.
Spare me your hypocrisy;
you watered the weeds
that tangled her voice.

But he loved her still,
in the way the moon loves the sea—
pulling her closer,
knowing she’d still pull away.
Always, he said,
and his words stitched her unraveling.
Even ghosts can’t carry everything.