The Haunted

Amidst all the commotion and chaos brought about by life, I am lost. But whenever I see your smile, hold your hand, feel your breath against my cheek, and look into your eyes, I know I am home.
–But then again, that was so long ago.

Will you stop haunting me?

I lie down, every night, with the image of you lingering in my mind. I’m lost—completely at sea—I don’t know why you’re still stuck here when you’ve left—quite uncertainly—three years ago.

Will you just stop it?

Every waking day, I open my eyes, only to see an image of you, so vivid in my head. I try to shake it off—to shake you off. But the more I do, the more your memory seems to slip through the fine spaces between my hair and cram into my mind. I’m imprisoned—I can’t free myself from the image you’ve built in me. I’m held captive by your mere memory that it numbs my senses, leaving me feeling weak and, considerably immobilized, resulting to my sudden crash landing at the foot of the stairs as I was—at least I doubtfully recall—going down to make breakfast.

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