i) Tell me what you think about when you can't go to sleep at night. When you're on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, heat reverberating off the skin on your body. Desperation hanging off your lips; her name rolling violently around the inside of your mouth like a storm, pausing every now and then to dangle treacherously off the edges of your tongue. Why are you still sleeping with her ghost darling? I wish you would stop missing her so much sometimes.
ii) These days, you get out of bed at 2 in the morning and head to the liquor store down the street with my red flannel wrapped around your waist. I don't know how long you're gone but you wake me with whiskey-tinged kisses and bloodshot eyes. I tell myself this is just a phase, that loving a sad person isn't that hard really, but when I'm in the shower scrubbing her name off my skin with warm water and soap, I can hear you calling out for her, in a drunken stupor, as you stretch your lanky arms out to my side of the bed. I tell myself things will get better.
iii) We visit her grave on Wednesday. I make you tomato sandwiches for the ride and pick dandelions off the sidewalk because I know they're her favourite; you've mentioned it at least ten times. When we get there, you're on your knees, head buried into the soft grass, I'm not sure if you're crying, I don't want to know. The dandelions now lie crushed within the creases of your palms, and I start to wonder if the sadness that's tucked behind the corners of your ears will ever dissipate.
iv) On the car ride home, you won't shut up. "she's dead, she's dead, she's dead," you keep muttering in short, frayed breaths. I don't know what else to do, so I put on some music, slide my hand into yours and feel your fingers tighten around mine. "I can feel her slipping away," you say, and I think about how that's not such a bad thing.
vi) You're tired when we finally reach the door, and your eyes are droopy; you almost can't walk. So I guide you to our room; one hand on the small of your back, the other wrapped around your waist. I tuck you into bed, and make sure your blanket covers the peaks of your toes.
vii)You've drifted off into nothingness, you're sleeping in soft and heavy breaths now. Her name escapes from the gap between your lips, and a sigh escapes from mine. I can't help but wonder if this is what loving a ghost feels like.