How do you forgive a ghost?
They speak no words.
They never say sorry.
They can never look you in the eye.
They never stay long enough to watch how much it hurts.
You disappeared from my life.
Without fixing the chaos you caused.
I write letters I’ll never say.
Say goodbyes no one will ever hear.
Cry tears no one will ever wipe away.
You’re a ghost, but your fingerprints will never leave my skin.
You slammed the door shut, but your name still haunts the room.
How do you forgive someone that was never there?
You vanished before I learned to scream.
Now I only whisper.
Whispering “I forgive you”
Whispering broken promises, shattering before they were ever made.
You were supposed to stay.
You etched promises into my skin then peeled them off when my skin became too hard.
Like a coward.
Like a ghost.
I didn’t get a goodbye.
I didn’t get an explanation.
All I got was a lie.
Perfectly crafted by you.
I trusted you.
“She said she would come back.”
“She told me that I was the only thing that mattered.”
The vicious thoughts echoed in my head, swirling around like the wind in a storm.
I scream into empty spaces, hoping it’ll give me closure.
I cry in lone rooms, hoping someone will comfort me.
How do you forgive someone that never existed?
I searched for you everywhere.
But you're gone.
You left as soon as the opportunity arose.
I know you’ll never come back.
Maybe one day I’ll forget who you were.
But right now, I grieve you like a ghost who never died.
I mourn the person I once knew.
I mourn the memories we shared.
I mourn my love for you.
Because at one point, you were all that mattered.
Until you tore yourself from me.
The silence you left still screams at me.
Filling the air with words you never said.
I rehearsed every word I would say to you.
Every scream.
Every cry.
Every conversation.
I practiced every day.
And yet, they never entered the lonely atmosphere.
You took pieces of me I never knew.
I know that I’ll never get them back.
I search for the missing puzzle pieces in other people.
But they never seem to fit the hole in my heart.
In my soul.
In my identity.
Instead, I replaced them with hope.
Hatred.
Resentment.
Because I gave up on waiting for you.
Maybe you weren’t the ghost.
Maybe I am.
Maybe that’s why no one ever seems to notice.
I hate that no one else sees you.
I hate how you only appear in the mirror.
I hate how you look like me.
I hate how, in the end, it’s just me looking back.
I wonder if ghosts can forgive too.
Do you miss me?
Do you even still care?
Or am I the one that’s haunting the past?
Am I the one who vanished years ago?
Or maybe, just maybe, am I still holding on to the little hope I have left?
Hoping you’ll come back?
Maybe I don’t forgive you.
Maybe forgiveness isn’t something for the dead.
I tried to forgive a ghost. I ended up becoming one.
