I fear your existence in my life.
You are the habit— the quiet echo in my mind,
The shadow I step over but never escape.
I could visualize the silence where you used to be,
Yet find you lurking in moments
Between scattered words of plastered memories,
Like the last note of a song
That refuses to fade.
I want to shake you off,
Like the weight of a dream upon waking,
Like the scent of rain long after the storm.
But you are stitched into my skin,
A ghost that wears my memories.
So I fight the habit of you— only to find myself reaching for it again.
