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.