Ghost feelings
That quickening tightness in my chest
Squeezes out my last breath.
I can’t tell if
It’s the longing of a lost hug
Or
The suffocating constriction of loss.
I can tell if
I miss who she was
Or
Hate what she did.
There’s no explanation, identification, or rationalization
For these feelings,
But they’re there.
And then they’re not.
They’re like a ghost standing over my bed
Watching,
Waiting, and haunting
Until
It squeezes out my last breath.
This poem is about:
Me
My family