phantom limb syndrome

do you know what it’s like to ache relentlessly?

you’re like an appendage too broken to fix,

i miss you, nonetheless

like phantom limb syndrome

something similar applies to people too

ghosts of you haunt the space next to me,

the recliner,

the right side of the bed

these are the places i don’t occupy,

because you still do

from aching in apathy,

to rolling in regret,

to cynical to the core

by the way, the sheets your mom bought us are still tucked in, with the corners halved and tucked “up” just the way you liked.

a habit i couldn’t shake

you have silly bedtime rituals,

i still turn the lights out a little later,

just for the ghost of you