To The Lost Love That Keeps Haunting Me


I still find you
in everything,
like under my fingernails
as I scrape for freedom,
like inside my lungs
as I gasp for air
knowing every molecule
has your name,
floating inside them.

I see you, hazel-eyed
sitting in my bed,
calling me,
I smell you, freshly-bathed
drawing me near.
I hear your voice,
claiming me,
whenever anyone comes
close enough to touch.

It is strange,
how you linger,
in every aspect,
of my existence,
like my pillow-cover
or the taste of my blood
inside my mouth
in the poetry
that I had come to call
my own.

You are,
the reason,
as to why,
I cannot love,
not even the person
hiding in the depths
of the skin I wear
for clothes.

My lover asks me today
about how she looks.
I am voiceless,
I can’t tell her
that every moment,
of every day,
I imagine her,
looking exactly,
like you.