Mourning a Ghost

How can I miss what I never had?
How can I love what never had breath, what never had life?
Numb to the world, to gestures of love,
to smiles, caresses, soft words…

The world is your purgatory.
You go through it, waiting for Judgment Day.
While waiting there, you exist, but you don't live.
You eat, you travel, but you don't love. You live in fear.
You encase yourself in selfishness, in arrogance.
You don't feel. You don't measure the weight of your words.
You don't realize their sharpness, their double edged-ness.
To you, it's kindness. To me, it's cowardice.

I cried for you. I cried until I couldn't cry anymore.
I cried until my eyes swelled, until they turned red, slits of puffiness.
Maybe I missed what you could have been. I know I still do.
But, now I have no choice but to put you behind me.
I can't covet what I can never have. I have to let go.

I have to bury you. I must stop mourning a ghost.
I will bring you flowers in the altar of my heart.
I will say a prayer in your name. I will wish you well.
Only then will I blow out the candle that has been burning,
patiently, hoping for your resurrection.

I will clean the mess left behind.

Ghosts don't exist.