Mourning Cursive - Ghost

There is a chasm between us— not the clean wound of goodbye, but an unfinished sequel, A lingering ellipsis of a story that promised one more chapter and never delivered. Your eyes have become a hollow where my reflection drowns without sound. The tide there moves against me, pulling every attempt at reaching you into a darkness that does not return what it takes. Once, I wintered in the soft architecture of your chest, hands folded into the quiet heat of your heart. Now, that place is only ice, and the frost knows my name better than you do. My body moves like it carries every hour I spent tracing the map of your absence, I have carried the weight of nights that refused to end, nights that grew roots in my ribs, that whispered the same question over and over into the hollow you left behind: How does one love a ghost who has not yet died?