A ghost of a person,
What have I become,
Trying to figure the world out,
Feeling nothing but absent,
In a world so physically present.
Have you ever felt time stop?
An impossible thought,
Mindlessly believing in the impossible,
That time could stop,
That time should stop,
In the absence of someone,
A ghost of a person is all I’ve become.
Crawling your way through the days,
Through the birthdays, Christmas, Mother’s Day,
All new occasions without her present,
This idea of absence is all too much,
Absent for all the events,
It’s been a year today,
That’s 365 days,
365 days of being absent,
Of being a ghost of a person.
To feel nothing yet everything all at once,
Numbness consuming the person you once were,
Seeking my mothers warmth in strangers,
Attempting to become what I can only describe as present,
In this body,
This ghost of a body.
You were present,
You were always there,
365 days later,
Nothing but absence.
The strangest part you ask?
No, not her.
I was absent the entire time.
(And perhaps I still am).
Nothing but a ghost of a person.