There is a ghost lying next to youwhere you’ve replaced my body. There is a burning left at your chestwhere my hand would rest inside. There …
Pulled into pieces
I no longer
Down at the souls of my feet
I was not what he wanted me to be.
Each day we would meet beneath that willow tree.
A place where the puddles are easily waded—and the fear, no matter how uncomfortable, is familiar.
I need you,
but from a distance.
I’m still that person with soft skin and an open heart. Whether rich or poor. Lost or found. I deserve to not be forsaken.